Three guys go into the woods
by Neuropsych
Summary: Strange lost the bet, so camping they go. Five days, no magic. What's the worst that can happen? Follow up to Special Treatment
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So… I couldn't see any reason not to start the next story in my own AU since I already have it rattling around in my mind. As most already know, I like to update. This story is the camping trip from the Special Treatment story. If you haven't read that, you might not understand the relationships I've developed, so take the time to read it, first._

 _Disclaimer: Obviously I'm not making any money off the Avenger characters._

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Got everything?"

Strange nodded to Wong, and then shook his head, looking dolefully down at himself. Normally impeccably dressed in a suit, he was now wearing jeans and a t-shirt, with an unbuttoned flannel shirt over it. Hiking boots that were so new they still needed some breaking in and thick socks completed his current ensemble.

"I must be out of my mind," the doctor said.

"Yes."

That just earned him a dark look, and Strange was good at those.

"Are you _sure_ you don't need me here?"

"You don't _have_ to go."

"Of _course_ I do. I lost the bet. Unless you need me, or you can think of some reason that I shouldn't go. Then I'll call Tony and tell him we need to reschedule."

Wong shook his head, and shrugged.

"Can't think of anything."

"Damn."

"Besides, do you really _want_ to reschedule? It's already getting cold at night. If you wait any longer, you'll be building an igloo instead of pitching a tent."

"I was thinking _next_ summer."

Wong snorted.

"Go on. Have fun. You deserve a vacation."

"A vacation is a sandy beach and an alcoholic drink in my hand."

"It's time with _Peter_ , though. You know you're looking forward to it."

Strange didn't look convinced, but he _was_ looking forward to some time with the boy, that was true. He picked up the bag that he'd dropped at his feet when he'd met Wong at the bottom of the stairs and looked over at the cloak.

"Are you coming?"

There was only the briefest hesitation before the relic flew over and draped itself over Strange's collar. _It_ wanted to see Peter too, but it wasn't convinced that _camping_ was the time to do it. Obviously it decided that the chance of getting dirty was probably worth it.

Then they were gone.

OOOOOOOO

"Are you sure about this?"

Tony Stark grinned, and then nodded.

"Of course. When's the last time you've seen me make a bad decision?"

Pepper gave him a look that he was very familiar with, and Natasha didn't look any more convinced. She was leaning against the tailgate of the pickup, watching as several coolers were being loaded into the back of the truck. There was already a good selection of camping equipment loaded into the truck, and – of all things – a _canoe_. Natasha doubted that Stark had ever _been_ in a canoe before, and she knew that Peter never had. Needless to say, there were also three lifejackets in the back of the truck, as well.

Before Pepper could actually respond, though, Peter came out of the building, a heavy bag in his hand, and walked over to them. He grinned, excitedly, and tossed the bag up into the bed of the truck, easily. Natasha couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, despite her own uncertainty.

"Got everything?" she asked the boy.

"I think so."

"A jacket?"

"Yeah."

He'd made a list, with the help of Steve Rogers, and had checked it as he'd packed the evening before. He was as confident as he could be that he had everything he'd need.

Stark looked at his watch, and then looked around.

"Stephen's late."

"Maybe he changed his mind," Pepper told him.

"He's here," Peter said, feeling the tingle that meant magic had been used nearby.

Sure enough, an instant later the Cloak of Levitation was zipping through the air toward the boy and then as Strange came from the building's doorway, it wrapped itself around Peter's head and shoulders, humming cheerfully in his head.

"Sorry I'm late," Stephen told them, walking over, also carrying a bag. He would have added ' _but I didn't want to come_ ', except that Peter looked excited, and he didn't want to spoil that enthusiasm by being an ass about the whole thing. "The cloak wasn't sure if it wanted to come."

"Why not?" Natasha asked, reaching out and touching the fabric in greeting.

"I'm pretty sure that it doesn't understand exactly what we're going to be doing – or _why_."

"It can learn as we go," Tony assured him, taking Strange's bag and tossing it into the back of the truck next to Peter's. "Are we ready?"

"I am," Peter said, still grinning.

"You take care of these guys, Peter," Pepper told him, giving him a smile and then hugging Tony, who returned the hug and then added a kiss, well aware that he wasn't going to see her for 5 days. Even though he didn't miss her, yet, he knew he would.

"I will."

Tony looked at Strange.

"Got your phone?"

"Yes."

"Give it to Pepper."

"What? Why?"

"No phones or tablets. Remember?"

"No. When did we agree to _that_?"

"We talked about it last night."

"I wasn't _here_ last night," Strange reminded him.

"Oh. Well, majority rules. Peter and I agreed, so _you_ are outvoted. "

Stephen scowled.

"What if something comes up?"

"We all have watches for emergencies – here, or there," Tony reminded him.

The doctor sighed, thinking that he _should_ have come the night before, but he'd had a few things to take care of before being gone for five days. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Pepper, who took it, and then gave _him_ a hug, as well.

"Please keep him out of trouble," she murmured softly to him.

"I _will_ ," he assured her.

"Who's going to keep _him_ out of trouble, though?" Natasha asked, also stealing a hug from Strange, and pressing a kiss against his cheek.

"That's _Peter's_ job," Pepper told her – and them. "He has enough common sense to rein Tony in when he comes up with a dumb idea."

"If you get into any trouble the no magic thing is off the table," Natasha told them, reaching over and pulling Peter into her arms and then keeping one arm around him while she pinned Stark and Strange both with a look that spoke volumes. "I don't want to see a single bruise on this handsome face when you guys get back. Understand?"

"He'll be fine," Strange said.

"Tony?"

"We'll watch him. You know that."

She _did_. But she just wanted to make sure that they understood what her expectations were.

Tony opened the driver's door, watching as Peter and Stephen got in the truck, and then turned to Pepper, his look full of love – and just a little of his usual cockiness.

"We'll be off the grid, but if you need _anything_ , call. Okay?"

"I will. Have fun."

Stark got behind the wheel and started the truck. Without another word, they drove away.

Pepper turned to Natasha.

"Am I wrong to be a little worried about them?"

"About three guys going into the woods, when only _one_ of them has ever been camping – _ever_ – and that was a weekend trip in a cabin?" she asked, shaking her head. "What's there to _worry_ about?"

The two grinned, and went back into the building. They weren't _that_ worried, really. It was Ironman and the most powerful magician in the world, after all.

They'd be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a two and a half hour drive to the area that Stark had selected for their camping trip. Peter sat in the back, in the middle of the bucket seat so he could participate in any conversation _and_ could see where they were going. The cloak was draped over his shoulder, pleased to have him to itself and humming contentedly in his mind, trying to lull him to sleep.

He wasn't sleepy, though. He was _excited_. He'd never camped before – which was going to be an adventure on its own – _and_ he was going to have Mr. Stark and Doctor Strange's company for the next five days, which was going to be great, too, as far as he was concerned.

Even though he and Stark had had lunch before they left – Natasha had insisted that he eat a final hot meal before turning him loose into Tony's care – Strange hadn't had anything, so they went through a drive thru half an hour after they left the compound. They didn't stop, though. Stark didn't mind driving and eating, and he wanted to make sure they didn't get delayed so there would be plenty of time to find the campsite and get everything ready before dark.

"What kind of wildlife are we going to be dealing with out here?" Strange asked, curiously, unwrapping his burger as they pulled back onto the highway.

 _Meaning what will try to eat me, first._

"The big ones are black bears, bobcats, Eastern cougars, coyotes, Eurasian boars, foxes and maybe even a moose," Peter answered.

Strange turned to look at him, surprised by the ready answer.

"Is that the Mind stone telling you that?"

Peter shook his head.

" _Google_. I looked it up at school the other day."

Stark smiled, but didn't say anything.

"Moose, huh?"

"They're not that common," Peter told the doctor. "We probably won't see any of that. Just the little mammals."

"We'll have the tent," Stark pointed out. "And it's designed to keep the critters out. No squirrels in our sleeping bags or anything like that."

The conversation turned to Peter's classes and the computer symposium that Ned was attending that weekend – which was why he wasn't along for the camping trip. He'd decided that as much fun as camping sounded – and Ned had actually been a few times, so he _knew_ about camping – the computer thing was a once a year event that he didn't want to miss out on.

Before they knew it, Stark was turning off the highway onto a dirt service road that had an open gate and a sign that proclaimed that camping was prohibited without permits and there was no hunting allowed.

"We've got a permit," Tony assured them.

They weren't interested in hunting, of course. Although Stark had packed fishing poles and bait for all of them to make the attempt at that particular outdoor activity.

"Do you know where we're going?" Stephen asked twenty minutes later. The dirt road seemed endless, and his rear was getting numb from sitting.

"I came out here and checked it out the other day."

"Driving?"

"Nope."

Why be Ironman if you couldn't save yourself some drive time once in a while?

A few minutes later, they turned a curve and there was a clearing in the trees, with the sparkle of water from a lake that was reflecting the late afternoon sun back at them, and the trees and hills surrounding it onto the flat, almost glass-like water. There was a graveled area that led to what was obviously a parking spot, adjacent to a fire pit area, and even a picnic table. The grassy area that touched the gravel was probably ideal for a tent.

As Stark pulled to a stop, Peter saw that there was also a port-a-potty mostly hidden in the tress a little off to the right.

Strange noticed it, too.

"Is that normally a campground amenity?"

Stark shook his head.

"I am only willing to rough it so much," he admitted. "I had it installed."

"I'm not going to complain," the doctor told him, approvingly.

They got out and stretched a little, looking around. Peter walked over to the edge of the water and was surprised to see a lot of tiny fish swimming right up against the shore of the lake. The cloak of levitation looked over his shoulder as well, but Peter couldn't feel any interest coming from it. It wasn't nearly as excited about being in the great outdoors as the boy was.

"There are _fish_ in here," he said, looking at them and pointing.

"Don't sound so surprised," Tony told him, walking over to look as well. "All the lakes around here have fish."

Peter felt a little foolish for being so excited, but he'd never seen fish anywhere other than at the aquarium – or in fish tanks. This wasn't the same thing. It was his first indication that he was in the wilderness. Exciting, but he was also well aware that he was way out of his normal element.

They walked back to the truck and Stark pulled out a backpack, opened it and handed each of them a digital camera.

"Pepper sent them," he explained. "They are waterproof, they will float if dropped into the lake, and she wants photos of everything."

"Including one of us being eaten by a moose?" Strange asked, turning the camera around in his hands to check it out.

" _Especially_ that," Tony replied. "Let's get camp set up so we can take a look around."

OOOOOOOOO

They didn't have too much trouble with the tent. Steve had taken Tony and Peter into the field the day before and had made sure that they would be able to set it up. Peter assumed - correctly - that Natasha had pointed out to Rogers that neither of them had done it before and she would want to make certain that they had a place to sleep at night. _She_ had never been camping, either, and so she wasn't the one to show them how it was done.

The tent was fair-sized. It was sturdy and had plenty of stakes holding it down on the chance that a windstorm or something might come up. The coolers of food were put inside the tent and the tops were firmly closed. Like everything Tony Stark did, the chests were high tech and not simply filled with ice to keep their perishables cool. These had a cooling technology in them that would run on solar power – even in the tent – and would stay cold for up to two weeks if needed.

Stark wanted to _camp_ , but he didn't want to deal with spoiled milk, if he could avoid it. Which he could.

They also had canned food, which went into the tent as well. The supplies; the fishing gear, the cooking items, enough firewood to last them probably a month and the like were all kept in the back of the truck with the canoe overturned above it to keep it out of the direct sunlight, or to keep it dry if it rained.

The last thing to go into the tent was the sleeping bags and pillows, and Stark took care of that while Peter took his camera and dutifully took pictures of their campsite – and Doctor Strange stacking wood near their fire pit.

"This is great," Peter said, looking into the tent when Stark came out so he could take a few pictures. He figured Ned would want to see them, as well.

He noticed that his sleeping bag had been put between Tony's and Strange's, and that Stark's was the one closest to the opening of the tent. It was all well and good to be camping, but Stark clearly had every intention of keeping himself between Peter and anything that might go bump in the night. Especially the dark and outdoor night.

Like moose.


	3. Chapter 3

"Have you ever _started_ a fire before?" Strange asked, watching Tony gather small pieces of wood and some fluff.

"Sure. Barbeques count right?"

"I'd think so."

It wasn't like Stark was using matches to try to start the fire, after all. Once he had the wood and kindling positioned how he wanted it, he pulled out a lighter and started the tinder. The little stuff caught exactly as he'd planned, and soon a fine blaze was burning in the fire pit. There was a grate that went over half of the fire pit, presumably to put a frying pan or kettle on for cooking, but none of them were ready to eat just yet.

They just hadn't wanted to try their luck with making a fire in the dark.

Peter came out of the tent, zipping it behind him, and walked over to stand beside Strange. Tony looked up at him from where he was kneeling beside the pit and gave him a triumphant grin, gesturing toward the blaze.

"I have made _fire_."

The boy grinned, and Strange rolled his eyes, amused.

"Can I go look around?"

"Yeah. But don't go far."

"I won't."

With the cloak still wrapped around his shoulders, Peter walked toward the woods, his camera in hand in case he found something interesting to snap a picture of for Pepper. Both men watched him go.

"This is going to be fun," Stark said, getting to his feet and waving the smoke away that seemed determined to follow his progress. "We'll get some quality time in with him, make sure life is going how it should be and consort with nature."

"We could have done all of that back at the compound."

"This is _better_. Where's your sense of adventure?"

Strange slapped a mosquito.

"Somewhere at home, eating a perfectly cooked steak."

OOOOOOOO

The woods were fairly quiet. A bird chirping in the trees overhead and something rustling around in the undergrowth nearby, but no cars honking, or people shouting or any of the plethora of noises that Peter had grown up with and was used to. Amazed by the absolute difference, he wandered fairly aimlessly, not in any hurry, and not looking for anything in particular. He had the vague feeling that he was being watched, but assumed it was an animal – or a bunch of animals, since nothing was setting off his spider senses that something was going to happen.

He found a little stream and stopped at the edge, crouching down to see if he could see any fish in it, too. What he saw wasn't fish, but some kind of bug that seemed to be skittering across the top of the water, doing whatever it was that a bug running on the surface of the water did. Which to Peter seemed to be just getting some cardio in.

His spider sense and the cloak both warned him suddenly at the same time and the boy looked to his left and saw a fuzzy black creature walking along the bank of the stream toward him.

He thought it might be a raccoon but the white stripe along the creature's back gave him the warning he needed to get up slowly and back up, leaving the bank to the skunk. It waddled by, ignoring him and well aware that he posed little or no danger to it. He snapped a picture of it, and frowned as it walked by. He didn't smell anything, and wondered why people said skunks were so bad. Shrugging, he jumped the stream and continued his walk, but now he was heading somewhat back toward the campsite and the lake. It wasn't all that late, but it did seem to be getting dark and he didn't want the others to get worried and come looking for him.

OOOOOOOO

There were three lawn chairs set up around the fire pit when Peter returned to the campsite. Two were occupied by Strange and Stark. Tony had brought out a pocket knife and had found a block of wood to carve up, and Strange was reading a book. They both looked up when he sat in the empty chair, but the cloak moved, because it didn't like the smoke that was coming off the fire toward that chair and retreated to Strange's shoulder, instead.

"Anything interesting?" Tony asked.

"There's a stream," Peter reported. "And I saw a skunk."

"Really?"

Peter nodded and held up his camera, silently telling them that he'd taken a picture of it.

"What are _you_ doing?"

"Whittling," Stark told him. "It's another word for carving."

"What are you making?" the boy asked, curiously.

"A _smaller_ piece of wood," Strange told him with a wink, proving he wasn't actually paying that much attention to the book he had in his hand.

"Funny."

Peter had to laugh. _He_ thought it was funny.

"Are you guys hungry, yet?" the doctor asked, setting his book aside.

Well aware of the disaster they'd created in the kitchen in the sanctum, Strange was not willing to trust his dinner to either one of them and had agreed to be the full time cook during their camping trip. He'd opted for a fairly simple menu, though, and his first night's culinary offering was proof of that.

They roasted hotdogs on metal skewers while Strange pulled out macaroni salad from the coolers in the tent and cold drinks. He also brought out the makings of s'mores, even though he'd never had one and wasn't a hundred percent sure he _really_ wanted to try what looked like a sticky, sweet mess.

After all three had eaten their fill, and Peter gorged himself on enough marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate to ensure he wasn't going to sleep for a decade, they sat around the fire and watched as the sun set over the lake and the sky turned dark, bringing out all kinds of nocturnal sounds and small animals moving around at the edge of the clearing – kept back by the smell of fire. They still had to wash what few dishes they'd used, but since Strange was cooking Peter and Stark had agreed to be the dishwashers and cook's helpers.

They lit a battery operated lantern and filled a dishtub with water they'd heated in the kettle over the fire. Peter washed the plates and roasting skewers, and Tony set them in the rack to dry, pointing out that actually _drying_ them would be a waste of time since nature would do it for him.

"I'm going to bed," Strange told them, standing up and slapping yet another mosquito. He'd had enough smoke inhalation and bugs for the night, and even watching Tony Stark do dishes wasn't entertaining enough to keep him out in the great outdoors, when he could be in a tent. "Try not to trip over me when you come into the tent."

"He'll come around," Stark told Peter, confidently, when Strange had zipped the tent up behind him. "The first day is just to acclimate to camping. Tomorrow we'll go canoeing and he'll be hooked."

"I'm having fun," Peter assured him, handing him the last dish, and then drying his hands on his jeans.

"Good."

That was the whole point, after all.

They finished clearing the area and then sat by the fire, talking well into the night. Peter unable to go to sleep any time soon because of the sugar coursing through his system and the odd noises in the night keeping him awake – and maybe a _little_ jumpy – and Tony enjoying the company he was keeping enough that he would have stayed up all night just to spend time with the boy.

When the fire died down to coals, they finally _did_ call it a night. Peter crawled into his sleeping bag, accidentally elbowing Strange who hadn't been sleeping very well, anyway, and then settling in with one of them on either side of him and the cloak of levitation draping itself over him. Sleeping on the ground wasn't that comfortable, but he didn't really feel any of that compared to how it felt to be where he was and with the people he was with. He went to sleep almost immediately.

Stark zipped the tent closed and also wriggled himself into his sleeping bag, forced to roll around just a bit until he managed to find a comfortable position. In the morning, he decided, he was going to move the tent and clear some rocks.

"Go to _sleep_ , Tony," Strange murmured from the other side of Peter, who was already out. "You're keeping me awake."

Or maybe it was the jagged rock that seemed to be trying to saw his shoulder in two.

"I'm working on it."

"Missing magic, yet?"

"No."

 _Yes_. A little.


	4. Chapter 4

Strange was the first one to wake the next morning. Not surprisingly since he was used to getting up early and wasn't even in his comfortable bed to try and talk himself into sleeping longer. He rolled away from the rock digging into his back and grumbled softly to himself to avoid waking the others before he slid out of the sleeping bag. There was light outside, so it wasn't _too_ early, and he could see well enough to see that Peter was sound asleep, tucked against Tony's side and buried under the cloak. Stark, however, shifted when Strange stood up, stepped over them and started to unzip the tent.

"Everything okay?" he asked, looking up at Strange and then automatically checking the boy beside him. Peter was asleep, and not looking like he was going to wake up any time soon.

"Yes," Stephen said softly in that manner that everyone who is awake before the rest of the world seems to adopt. "It's early. Go back to sleep."

"'kay. Holler if you need me."

Since there wasn't any crisis, and he was somewhat warm, and moderately comfortable, he snuggled up against the cloak – which was radiating warmth for Peter and didn't mind sharing it with Stark – Tony did as he was told and went back to sleep.

Strange let himself out of the tent and zipped it back up before turning. And had to admit when he did that he was kind of glad to be up so early. There was a soft mist over the lake, and the sun rising behind him reflected into that mist, forming a billion prisms and miniature rainbows. There were also several deer at the edge of the lake, having a morning drink, completely oblivious to the presence of the sorcerer supreme that had just joined them.

He pulled out the so far unused camera Pepper had supplied and snapped a couple of photos before he cleared his throat to avoid startling them with his movement.

Seven heads popped up, big eyes and huge ears all pointed at him for just a moment, and then they were gone in a flash of white tails and the clatter of hooves on the small pebbles that lined the shore of the lake. Hoping that they weren't being followed and stalked by something a lot hungrier than they were, the doctor headed for the fire pit, figuring that a fire would be the best way to start the day.

And the _only_ way he was going to make coffee since he was honor-bound not to just summon himself up a cup.

OOOOOO

By the time Peter and Tony both left the tent yawning and stretching, there was a roaring fire in the pit, and an old fashioned coffee pot sitting on the grill, percolating cheerfully.

"Tell me that's coffee," Tony said, walking over to the fire and rubbing his hip, which was probably bruised a million different colors thanks to the rock he'd slept on.

"It _is_. And it isn't too bad, if I do say so myself."

He'd never used a percolator before, but it was pretty self-explanatory when he'd seen it the evening before. He poured Tony a cup, using a towel on the handle and still managing to burn his fingers.

"Thanks."

Strange made them bacon and eggs for breakfast while they got themselves cleaned up and changed, and when they were done eating, and everything had been cleared, Tony asked if they were ready to try fishing.

Peter had jumped at the idea, and headed to the truck for all the gear; all three fishing poles and the huge tackle box that had been assembled by Clint for them. He'd taken his kids many times and had even tried to teach Peter how to cast a line.

Stephen wasn't quite as eager, but was willing to be included, and the three walked down to the water's edge.

"We could catch the little ones and use them as bait," Tony told them, looking at the tiny fish swimming at the shore.

"They're just _babies_ ," Peter objected, also looking down at them.

"But it's okay to try and catch mom and dad?" Strange asked, amused.

"Well… yeah. I guess."

Stark slapped Peter on the back, glad he was the way he was and hoping he'd never change.

"We've got nonliving bait," he assured the boy, opening up the tackle box and handing each of them a jar of a putty looking goo that was designed to stick on the hook.

Peter set up a bobber on his line, not sure if he could do the fishing off the bottom thing that Clint had explained to him. His cast left _everything_ to be desired, when he ended up hooking Strange's sweatshirt on his back cast and kept tugging at the rod before he realized what he'd done.

"Sorry," he said, picking the hook out of the doctor's shirt and putting more bait on it, since the first glob had ended up near Stephen's ear.

"No problem."

Tony's cast almost pierced Strange's ear.

"Seriously?" Strange asked, rolling his eyes and putting his fingers to his bleeding ear. "Are you guys even _aiming_ for the water?"

"You're okay," Stark said, checking how serious it was. "Ears bleed a lot."

Like the doctor needed Tony to tell him that?

He took his hook back, and rebaited it. Stephen stepped to the side, watching carefully as Peter's next cast caught a log that was on the lakeshore about fifteen feet to the right of the three of them.

"It's trickier than it looks," the boy said, jogging over to retrieve his hook once more.

"For someone who has such good aim with a web shooter, you'd think he'd be a little better at this," Strange mumbled to Tony.

"It just takes practice," Stark told him. "Give him a break; he's never done it before. I'll bet your first surgery didn't go off without a hitch."

"As a matter of fact, it was _perfect_ ," Stephen told him. "Just like all the rest of them were."

"Show us how it's done, doctor," Tony said, moving to the side and gesturing to the lake.

Peter came over and stood next to him, holding his fishing pole in one hand and the hook and line in the other.

Strange added goo to his hook and made a cast. His pole went out into the water, and the hook lodged into the belt loop on his jeans.

"Damn it."

"I'll get it," Peter offered, wading out into the water after the pole, which was about twenty feet away and floating beside a log.

"Be _careful_ ," Tony said, not liking the idea of the boy being in water that they didn't know how deep it was.

"It's fine," Peter assured him, and then walked off a drop off and vanished under the water for a moment – which was long enough to give Strange and Stark both a scare.

Strange was already moving his hand to get Peter out when the boy came up sputtering – and treading water – proving that his swim lessons with Clint had practical applications. The Cloak of Levitation swooped out to hover over him, extending a corner of fabric for him to grab hold of, but Peter waved it off with a quick motion.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked, ready to jump in after him as well.

Peter nodded, but was concentrating on keeping himself afloat and didn't bother to answer. Instead, he swam out to Strange's pole – arms and legs flailing like always – grabbed it and headed back to the shore. He was soaked when he got out of the water, of course, but it didn't stop him from grinning, even though his teeth were chattering a little.

"We might need to move a little to one side," he told them. "I probably scared all the fish in this part away."

"Scared the hell out of _me_ ," Strange admitted.

"Me, too," Stark agreed. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'll go change and be right back. You guys can start without me."

The cloak went to Strange rather than get damp hanging out with Peter, who wasn't surprised at all.

As he was passing the truck, however a green pickup drove up to stop beside him. It had an official logo of the park rangers sticker on the door, though, and the two men inside were both in uniform. He stopped as the older one – the one who was driving – greeted him with a wave.

"Good morning, son."

"Good morning," Peter replied, looking back and hoping that Strange was telling the cloak to act normal.

The two were already heading his way, and he was relieved to see that the cloak was hung over the doctor's shoulder, looking like a blanket.

"You'd be better off wearing a few less clothes if you're planning on taking another dunking in the water."

The boy grinned.

"I didn't know it dropped off."

"That spot gets everyone," the passenger in the truck said, just as Strange and Stark joined them, each taking a spot on either side of Peter.

The boy wondered if it were conscious, or if it was just a subliminal habit that they'd gotten into to protect him.

"Good morning," Tony said, offering up a smile.

"We saw the smoke," the driver said. "And figured we'd better come take a look."

"Ah."

"This is a permit only camping site," he advised them.

"We have a permit," Stark said. "Come and have a cup of coffee, if you'd like, and I'll get it."

"And your fishing licenses," the driver added.

"Sure." He turned to Peter. "Go get changed before you catch a cold."

Peter nodded, and went to the tent, and the rangers got out of their truck and headed for the picnic table with Strange, while Tony went to the truck.

"You from the city?" the passenger asked as Strange produced a couple of metal cups and poured the two coffee, once more burning his hand on the handle.

"Yes."

"Ever been up here before?"

"No. this is my first time."

It was obvious when talking to him that Strange was highly educated and not an outdoorsman.

"First time here?" the driver asked. "Or first time camping?"

"Both. I lost a bet," he explained.

"What do you do for a living?" the driver asked, curiously.

"I'm a surgeon."

Tony joined them, then, and handed over the permits they'd requested.

"Dr. Stephen Strange and- you're _Tony Stark_?"

Stark smiled, rocking on his heels.

"Guilty."

"Good enough." The ranger handed the papers back. "Where is your food?"

"In the tent, in coolers."

Both of the rangers shook their heads.

"You're going to want to keep it in the cab of your truck," the driver suggested. "Otherwise you're begging to have it eaten by something."

"Like a moose?" Strange asked, innocently.

"More like a bear."

"Are there bears around here?" Stark asked, surprised.

"A few – they're pretty shy, but they'll hit a cooler and take anything they can steal if the opportunity presents itself."

"Which brings up another point," the passenger said. "Have y'all heard any gunshots around here?"

Stark and Strange looked at each other and then shook their heads.

"No, but we only arrived yesterday afternoon. Why do you ask?"

"Poachers."

" _Deer_?" Strange asked, thinking of the herd he'd seen that morning by the lake.

"Or bear, or anything with a valuable pelt. It doesn't matter to some people what they kill, they just want to kill it."

"It's always a problem," the driver told them, finishing his coffee just as Peter joined them, wearing dry clothes – although his hair was still dripping wet. "You'll be fine, though. They usually shy away from any area where there are people. Don't want witnesses."

They headed for their truck, thanking the campers for the coffee.

"Remember what I said about the water, son," the driver told him getting back behind the wheel and starting the truck.

Peter nodded.

"Okay."

"What did he tell you about the water?" Stark asked, curiously.

"I'm wearing too many clothes to swim in."

"I could have told you that," Strange said. "And I'm not a park ranger."

"Come on," Tony said. "Let's try this fishing thing, again."

"After we put the coolers in the cab of the truck," Stephen reminded him.

"Why are we doing that?" Peter asked, curiously.

"To keep the bears from stealing them,' Stark said, matter-of-factly.

It was obvious that Peter couldn't tell if they were messing with him, or not, but he helped them carry the coolers to the truck before they went back to claim their fishing poles and bait.


	5. Chapter 5

It was Strange who managed to catch the first fish. It was a fairly large one, too, and Peter whooped with excitement when the doctor reeled it in. Tony was impressed when he helped get it off the hook.

"It'll make a good addition to dinner," Stark told them both, as Peter took a picture of Strange holding it up, triumphantly.

Peter frowned, looking at the fish and then at Strange, who had absolutely no trouble reading the boy's expression just then.

"I'm not going to _eat_ that," Peter said.

"And I'm certainly not going to _cook_ it."

"What? That's the whole point of catching fish," Tony reminded them. "To have it for dinner."

Strange let the fish loose and it swam away, not realizing its luck.

"We're having _burgers_ tonight, and I have no intention of running down a _cow_."

Tony scowled, and looked at Peter, but realized he wasn't going to get any help from him. He had that stubborn set to his jaw that the man knew all too well.

"You didn't expect to catch something for dinner?"

"It's called _fishing_ ," Peter pointed out. "Not _catching_. I just assumed we'd spend the day with our hooks in the water."

"It was a big fish, though," Strange had to say, feeling pretty pleased with himself.

Peter grinned.

"Yeah, it was."

They had similar discussions when Peter caught his first fish, as well, and then Strange caught another. Both fish went back into the water unscathed. There was a bit more of a crisis when _Tony_ caught one, too, and looked at his companions as he started to pull out the fish holder that would keep it alive in the water until they were ready to finish their fishing for the day.

Strange's expression was a _challenge_ , pure and simple, and he knew immediately what that challenge was when he looked over at Peter, who looked almost like he was going to cry. Prove he was a mighty fisherman who could catch his own dinner, or devastate the boy he cared about most in the world? It wasn't even close, really. His ego would lose every time, and he knew it – and Strange knew it. But Stark didn't give in graciously. He rolled his eyes and set the fish loose with a sigh.

Peter's relieved grin was worth it, he supposed.

"Let's go canoeing."

"After we eat some lunch," Stephen said.

Fishing was hungry work, after all.

OOOOOOOO

"Are you in?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Stephen?"

"Yes."

The canoe was perfectly sized to hold two men and a scrawny teen, but it wasn't the steadiest craft Stark had ever tried boarding. He held the thing still in the water to allow Peter and Strange to settle themselves, and then pushed out a bit from the lake – remembering the drop off that had sucked Peter in earlier that day at the last minute and had jumped in as well.

The little vessel rocked precariously for a minute, threatening to tip over, but then righted itself and all three of them breathed a sigh of relief. Peter was in the middle and didn't have an oar, so he took out his camera to take photos, being careful not to include any that had the cloak hovering in the air, instead of draped over someone's shoulder.

 _It_ didn't know if it wanted to canoe or not, obviously, and it didn't seem to be impressed by the lifejackets they were all wearing, either.

"This isn't so bad," Stark said after several minutes of careful rowing had propelled them fairly well out toward the middle of the lake. "It's _peaceful_."

"It certainly is quiet," Strange agreed.

Peter looked over the side of the canoe, well aware that the water was much deeper than anything he'd been in before.

"I saw this movie one time where some guy released a bunch of piranha into a resort lake and they started eating anyone who went into the water…"

Stephen frowned, looking over the side as well.

"Why would he do _that_?"

The boy shrugged.

"That isn't the part of the movie that I remember," he admitted.

"There aren't any piranha in the lake," Stark assured them both. "Otherwise Peter would have been eaten this morning, _remember_?"

Good point.

"Too bad we didn't bring the fishing poles," Strange said after a few more minutes. "I imagine all the really big fish are out here."

"We wouldn't get to eat them," Tony reminded them, still a little peeved about the one that hadn't gotten away but had been let go.

"The _catching_ is the fun part," Peter said, looking over the side again.

Probably looking for piranha, Stark decided, looking over the side, as well.

Unfortunately for all three of them, Strange had chosen that moment to look that direction, too, and the center of balance in the canoe shifted in an instant. All three felt it, and leaned the other way, automatically, which sent the little craft tilting the other direction, swamping it and dumping them all into the water with assorted oaths.

Stark immediately turned to Peter, worried that he'd be freaking out, and the boy did look a little pale, clutching his lifejacket with both hands, but he was calm. Strange was, as well, when Tony looked at him.

"Okay, we just flip it upright and get back in one at a time," he told them.

All three turned toward the canoe, just in time to watch it sink.

"What kind of boat sinks when it tips over?" Stark asked, annoyed.

" _All_ of them do, Tony," Strange pointed out, treading water, even though it wasn't necessary. Their lifejackets were doing what they were designed to do; holding them out of the water enough that they weren't in any danger.

But they _were_ a fair distance from the shore.

"Well… looks like we get an afternoon swim in," Stark said, reaching out to take hold of Peter's jacket to keep the boy from drifting away from his side. "And I do not want to _hear_ the word piranha."

The cloak came to a hover in front of Peter, extending a corner of fabric toward the boy, humming reassurance into his mind. Obviously it didn't see the need for them to swim when it could tow them in – as long as it didn't have to get into the water with them.

"You don't mind?" Peter asked it, gratefully reaching a hand up to grasp it.

"It's going to float you?" Tony asked.

"It'll _tow_ us," Peter said, feeling an agreement from the relic. "Hold onto me, and I'll hold it."

The cloak waited until they were secure, and Peter's grip was firm, then it flew toward their campsite, skimming just above the surface of the lake and going slow enough that their faces didn't get swamped with the wake of Peter's passing.

Half an hour later, it was a weary group of sodden flotsam that finally felt the bottom of the lake underfoot and let go.

"Thanks," Peter told the cloak.

The relic hummed cheerfully, brushed the same corner of fabric against the boy's cheek and then flew over to the fire pit, draping itself over the back of a chair, wet end toward the mostly dead fire as if waiting for someone to come light it.

"Everyone alright?" Strange asked as they walked across the rocky shore, wet shoes – inside _and_ out – making the footing a little less secure.

"Yeah," Peter told him, turning just in time to see the doctor slip and roll his ankle.

The boy's reflexes were quick enough to catch Strange's arm and keep him from falling, and he was strong enough to hold him steady, but the doctor hissed in pain when he tried to put his weight on the foot. Stark immediately moved to one side of him while Peter adjusted his grip on the other and the two supported him as he staggered to the chairs.

Crooning with concern that only Peter could feel, the cloak moved from its chair to hover beside Strange, caressing his cheek with the already wet corner of fabric.

"You okay?" Tony asked, watching as Stephen pulled his shoe off and set it by the edge of the fire pit. They were going to need to dry out, after all. The sock followed, and Strange moved his foot a little, wincing.

"Yeah. Just _sprained_ , I think."

"Good." Stark looked at Peter. "Go get him some dry clothes, and get the first aid kit. We'll ice it, and wrap it, and keep you off it the rest of the day."

Peter took off for the tent at a trot, and Strange nodded his approval of Stark's plan.

"You'll probably have to cook dinner, though."

"We'll probably be having _cereal_ , then."

Both men were grinning when the boy returned.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter and Tony helped the doctor into dry clothes, got his foot wrapped and an instant ice pack from the first aid kit onto it. The wrap job wasn't as smooth as what Stephen was capable of, but it was an awkward place to do it alone so he was pretty much forced to give himself up to their attentions. Then had them seat him at the picnic table rather than a chair near the newly kindled fire with his foot propped up on the back of one of the lawn chairs to keep it elevated.

Peter then watched him while Tony went to change, and then they reversed roles so Peter could change as well. When the boy came out of the tent, he was carrying a sodden mess of clothing that he proceeded to hang over the side of the truck so it could dry in the warm afternoon sun.

"Running out of clothes already?" Strange asked, amused.

"Yeah. If I'm not careful I'll be running around naked."

"We'd think of something before that happened," Stark assured him.

Peter had also dragged their wet clothes out with his own and when he was done hanging them all over the truck, he wiped his hands on his jeans.

"I'm going to go look around, okay?"

"You did that _yesterday_."

"There's a lot to look at."

Stark shrugged.

"Don't go far."

"I won't."

Peter looked at the cloak, but it was still drying itself out by the fire, and also caressing Strange as it tried to comfort him and his injured ankle. He grinned and headed for the trees by himself, figuring he'd go a different direction this time, just to be able to see something different.

Stark turned to Stephen as the boy walked away.

"I brought a deck of cards, if you're interested."

"Sure."

Even though it was a deck of cards that got him stuck camping in the _first_ place. He was well aware that Tony had included a lot of down time in the itinerary for their trip – and with the canoe gone, there would probably be even more, now.

Obviously Stark was thinking the same thing, since he looked out at the lake once he sat across from Strange with cards and score pad in hand.

"I could probably go Ironman and get the canoe back."

"Or I could do it with magic."

"You're not allowed to do magic."

"Then _you_ probably shouldn't be allowed to _go Ironman_ ," Strange pointed out, more than willing to not go canoeing again. "Fair is fair, wouldn't you say?"

Stark hesitated, and then shrugged.

"I suppose."

He could always come back later and get it.

OOOOOOOO

Peter's decision to change directions that he explored didn't really change the scenery. He walked through trees and underbrush that looked exactly like the things he saw last time, including a stream that might even be the same one that he'd seen the skunk by. There were squirrels and other critters – he wasn't completely sure what they were, only that they didn't have claws and sharp teeth and probably weren't predators. At least not predators that would be interested in a fifteen year old boy.

He took pictures of them all, well aware that he had a large memory card in the camera so was pretty much unlimited in the photos. If nothing else, Natasha and Pepper might find something interesting.

Being a city kid, he knew he was probably making enough noise to scare any real interesting creatures away before he got close enough to see them. What he didn't realize, however was that he was a lot quieter than most, and he was startled when he came out of the trees and found a clearing that had a herd of deer grazing in it.

Not that he'd never seen grazing deer; he _had_. _Very_ close up, even. But he'd been sleepy, then, and they had run away immediately. This time they didn't notice him and he managed to take some pictures. There were several does and a larger buck, with an impressive rack of antlers that were covered in something that looked like fur. Many were younger, and hanging out by the does, but none of them were little enough that he'd call them babies.

He skirted the clearing and checked his watch, but it wasn't too late, yet, so he kept walking. His alert vision caught sight of something decidedly straight in a bunch of brush that was anything but and Peter stopped, waiting for any kind of indication that he should be wary. He didn't feel anything and reached down and picked up what looked like an arrow, but was mangled and had goo on the pointed end.

"Wow."

At first he thought maybe he'd found an artifact from pioneer days – he knew that it happened, of course – but this one was clearly stamped made in the USA and he figured that the Indians in the area back then wouldn't have bothered labeling their equipment. Not to mention, now that he was looking at it, the arrowhead was clearly _metal_ , with a nasty looking barb on it, which was smeared with what might have been dried blood.

He kept it, thinking that the others might find it interesting, and continued his explorations, dodging a dark area that made his senses tingle a little and also avoiding a spot where he was pretty sure he heard something growling in the brush. Of course, as far as _he_ knew, it might have been a raccoon, but to him growling meant teeth, and he was probably pretty yummy to some of the creatures that lived out here.

He turned back toward the campsite, figuring that if he spent much more time out of sight Mr. Stark would think that he was lost and would come looking for him. He was near the clearing that he'd seen the deer, when he realized that something was definitely off. The woods were silent, and his senses were suddenly screaming at him.

Peter turned his head the direction that the oddity seemed to be coming from and realized that there were two men crouched in the brush no more than fifty feet from him, facing away from him, both wearing camouflage clothing and holding bows. One had his drawn, and Peter saw he was pointing his arrow at the big buck he'd seen earlier.

Without hesitation, the boy reached down and picked up a large dirt clod. He chucked it – not at the men – but at the _deer_. He was strong enough that the distance didn't matter and the dirt clod hit the buck's rear, startling it and making it jump and then flee. Behind it went the rest of the deer, tails flashing white as they left.

"Damn it!"

Both men stood, and Peter ducked behind a tree right as one of them turned his direction. Almost as if the man had a feeling of his own, he started walking toward where Peter was hiding, looking around suspiciously. It was a simple matter for the boy to climb the tree – it wasn't a building but it didn't have to be for him to stick to it – and by the time the man reached the tree, Peter was at the top, hiding in the leaves and looking down at him, quietly.

"Help me find my arrow!" came a command from the other guy, and the one below Peter turned and left.

The boy waited until they were gone before he climbed out of the tree, and then he headed back to the campsite, the arrow that he'd found still clutched in his hand.

OOOOOOOO

"You're sure they were _hunting_?" Strange asked, looking at the arrow Peter had handed him with interest.

"Pretty sure," Peter said. "I've never seen it done before."

"The poachers the rangers were telling us about?" Stark asked.

Strange shrugged.

"Maybe. They didn't mention _bows_ , though."

"I bet Clint could hunt with a bow if he wanted to," Peter pointed out.

"I'm sure he could. We can tell the rangers about it if we see them," Tony said. "If they don't come by, we can find the ranger's station tomorrow or the next day."

"I wonder what chewed this one up?" Strange asked, looking at the arrow in his hand again.

"Not a person."

"No."

There were definite bite marks in the shaft. Peter hadn't recognized them as such, but Strange had immediately.

"Maybe they lost this one and an animal got hold of it," Peter said. "Like a raccoon or something."

"Or they shot something that got away from them," Stark said, frowning. "We'll keep a watch out – and _you_ don't go back into the woods without one of us with you."

"Okay."

He knew better than to argue, since Mr. stark had that particular set to his jaw just then.

"Good. Let's have dinner."


	7. Chapter 7

They had chilidogs for dinner. Strange had planned _burgers_ , but Tony wanted something that didn't really require more than just heating and serving. Which meant chilidogs, potato salad and fruit. Once they were done eating and Peter had washed the dishes – since Stark cooked and Strange wasn't quite ready to try out his ankle just yet – they sat around the fire, talking about the day, the photos that they had taken and what they had planned for the next day. Which wasn't too much, and would depend on how the doctor's ankle was doing, obviously.

Peter was pulling out the elements to make himself another round of s'mores when his watch chimed, surprising him.

"Who is it?" Stark asked, curiously.

Peter grinned, which answered the question for him.

"Hey, Natasha."

" _Hi, sweetheart. I was just sitting here doing nothing and was thinking about you and thought I'd see how you're doing."_

"I'm good."

" _Are you having fun?"_

"She isn't supposed to be _checking_ on you," Tony said, able to hear the conversation in the stillness of the night.

"Mr. Stark said you're not supposed to be checking on me," Peter told her, which made Stark roll his eyes and Strange grin.

" _I'm not checking on_ you," came Natasha's reply. " _I'm checking on the other guys. How are_ they _doing?"_

"Doctor Strange sprained his ankle this afternoon."

" _How?"_ Natasha asked. _"Is he okay?"_

"Walking out of the lake. He-"

"Tell her I'm fine."

"He says he's fine."

" _What was he doing in the lake?"_

"Don't you _dare_ tell her that we tipped the canoe," Stark told him.

"What _do_ I tell her?"

"Tell her anything else."

"We capsized the canoe in the middle of the lake and the cloak had to tow us to shore."

Strange laughed, well aware that Peter wasn't good at lying – especially to Natasha – and wouldn't have been able to think of any story so quickly. Stark just rolled his eyes.

" _Seriously?"_

"Yeah. We caught some fish, too."

" _Who caught the biggest one?"_

"Mr. Stark."

" _Sounds like an adventure."_

"It is. Are you guys okay?"

" _We're fine. Tell Tony that Pepper says hello and don't forget to take lots of pictures for us."_

"We will."

" _Good night, Peter."_

The communication went silent and Stark looked over at the boy.

"When I tell you _not_ to tell someone _something_ , that means I don't want you to tell them something."

"I _know_ , but I didn't know what to say instead that wasn't a lie."

"We obviously need to work on that."

OOOOOOOOOO

"He says they're fine."

"Do you believe him?"

"Peter wouldn't lie to me."

"He's hanging out with _Tony_ ," Pepper reminded her. "He's a good man, but maybe not the best influence."

Natasha smiled.

"I'll call him again in a couple of days – just to double check."

OOOOOOOO

Strange was the first one ready to go to bed. Not only because he'd been the first one up that morning but because his ankle hurt and he decided that a night with it elevated would make it feel that much better in the morning. Peter offered him a hand but the boy was sticky from marshmallows and melted chocolate, and the doctor let Stark help him to the tent.

"We'll try not to wake you up when we come to bed," Stark promised, easing Strange down onto his sleeping bag.

"You do that," Stephen said. "I'll probably be good to go in the morning. If not, I want coffee, eggs and pancakes."

Tony smiled.

"What was that? Coffee and Apple Jacks?"

"You're killing me, Tony."

He set a pillow under his foot and Stark handed him another icepack to use during the night.

'I'll see you in the morning."

Stark went out to the fire, but he was a bit tired and ready to call it a night, too. One look at Peter told him the boy wasn't even close to being sleepy. He was looking for another marshmallow to put on his roasting skewer and already had a couple of chocolate bars on the paper plate in his lap. The cloak was draped over the back of the chair that Strange had vacated. It didn't want anything to do with sticky marshmallow hands.

"You want a s'more?" Peter offered when Tony came and sat down in his chair with a tired sigh that he wasn't quite able to hide.

"No. Thanks."

"You _can_ go to bed, you know…"

"I'm okay."

"You look tired."

"And you're not?"

"I'm younger than you," Peter reminded him, pulling his burning marshmallow out of the fire and watching it become engulfed with the flames before he blew it out.

"You're not _really_ going to eat that thing, are you?"

Peter shoved the whole marshmallow in his mouth, sucking in air to cool his mouth when the melted mess burned him a little.

"Yup."

Tony shuddered.

"That's so disgusting."

"They're better that way."

"I'm going to talk to May about that," Stark said. "You _know_ that, right?"

"Who do you think taught me how to do it?"

Peter reached into the bag for another marshmallow, and Tony shook his head. He couldn't watch.

"I'm going to bed."

"Okay. Good night."

"You're _okay_?"

"Yeah."

"Don't stay up too late."

"I won't."

Stark vanished into the tent, and Peter heard him zipping it closed, then set his marshmallow on fire and made himself a s'more with it. He put another log on the fire and watched it catch while he ate the treat and then tossed his paper plate into the fire as well, figuring he'd better ration his marshmallows for later, or he'd have very boring chocolate graham cracker sandwiches instead of s'mores the next few days.

And then, for no reason at all, he grinned.

He was _camping_. Sitting by a fire, next to a tent and a lake and a forest – or _wood_ , he wasn't sure of the difference but it was still exciting for him. He pulled out the camera and took a selfie with it, even though he knew it probably wouldn't turn out very well in the dark.

"I should have learned to play the guitar," he told the cloak, which was still hanging out with him for the moment. "Then we could sit around the campfire and sing old fashioned songs or something."

It crooned into his mind cheerfully in response. It didn't know – or _care_ – about guitars or singing, but it would go along with whatever he wanted to do.

As the night grew darker around him and the fire died a little more, Peter watched with fascination as some nocturnal creatures came out, some daring to brush near the camp as they headed for the lake for a drink, or just going about their business and ignoring the lone boy sitting quietly near the fire pit. His night vision was more than adequate to see details, and he watched bats come eat the mosquitos and other flying insects that were naturally drawn to the fire and the lake water, and even an owl or two flying overhead back and forth, looking for whatever it was that they ate.

The sugar in his system kept him awake much later than he planned, but eventually the fire was low enough that he decided to call it a night or he'd have to go get a jacket to put on over his sweatshirt. Before going to bed he went to get his now dry clothing from the side of the truck bed and folded them – somewhat – figuring that he'd put them on the picnic table instead of waking everyone up trying to get them into his bag in the tent.

A sound drew his attention just as his senses began to tingle a warning and he looked over by the tent, shocked to see that he wasn't alone. A dark shape ambled along the side of the tent, not in any hurry to get wherever it was going and sniffing the ground and the air occasionally as it investigated the campsite. It was walking with an odd gait – he thought maybe with a limp – but the only time he'd ever actually seen a live bear was at the zoo, and that had been a very long time ago.

A new sound behind the truck made him turn away from the impossible sight of the bear, and when he looked he saw another impossibility. Two more bears – these being much smaller than the one near the tent – were heading toward the truck, on track to meet the larger bear at the picnic table where he'd left his bag of marshmallows. The only problem with that was that they would walk into him when they did.

Peter froze, his spider senses screaming at him that he was in danger – which he absently found absolutely ludicrous since it was _obvious_ that he was in danger. Well aware that he wasn't a match for anything the size of the bear – the big one, at least – he was _also_ aware that the big bear was only a few feet away from where Tony was sleeping near the front of the tent and that it could seriously hurt _him_ if he made a noise or something in his sleep that startled it. He was certain the flimsy tent wouldn't keep either Stark or Strange safe if the bear tried to go after them.

The Cloak of Levitation did _not_ freeze. It didn't know what a _bear_ was, but it was tuned into Peter enough to feel his fear, and it recognized the two little bears as being the danger to his Peter since _they_ were closest to him. The ancient relic flew at the two little bears, snapping at them with an edge of fabric that hit the closest one and made it squeal with pain and fright. It tried to run away and ran toward the water –and Peter – and was pinned between the cloak and the truck, with Peter now somehow in the path of its escape route.

The other little bear ran off without a fight, running right past the front of the tent and squealing with fright as it ran into the woods. The large bear roared with fury at the perceived threat to the cub the cloak was harassing and charged. For obvious reasons, it didn't see the _cloak_ as the danger to the cub – it didn't see the cloak at _all_ , really. Only the boy that was standing between it and the youngster.

The cloak slapped the cub again, trying to get it to move away from Peter, but then it saw the charging bear and recognized the true threat to Peter. As the bear pounced on the boy, who tried to dodge at the last minute, but failed to avoid one of the huge paws that took a swipe at him, the cloak wrapped itself around the jaws that were going for a killing bite and all three of them went down in a chaotic pile against the rear wheel of the truck.


	8. Chapter 8

Tony Stark came awake with a start, uncertain what he was hearing but instantly knowing it had to be bad. _And_ that it had to involve _Peter_. A quick check to his side confirmed that the boy wasn't in the tent, and an angry roar from outside the tent brought him to his feet, immediately, hampered only by the fact that he was tangled in his sleeping bag.

He activated the Ironman suit as the sleeping bag fell to the ground and he heard a noise from Strange's side of the tent, but didn't stop to find out what he was saying or doing. The zipper snagged and broke in his haste to open the doorway, but he couldn't blast his way out of the tent so he had to take a moment to frantically tear the opening before he could rush out and find out what was happening.

Then he stopped, weapons activating immediately but shock at what he was seeing and the realization that a poorly timed round could endanger Peter as easily as it could rescue him kept him from firing. Friday was giving him information, and the night vision in the suit made it plain to see that impossibly there was what had to be a bear trying to maul Peter, who was pinned against the rear tire of the truck. The boy wasn't moving, and the only saving grace Stark saw was that the Cloak of Levitation had several parts of itself wrapped around the more dangerous portions of the bear and was trying to pull it away from him.

The weapons were deactivated and Tony did the only thing he really _could_ safely do at the moment, and that was to jump into the fray and grab the bear from behind, wrapping metal encased arms around it and trying to get his armored body between the creature and the boy. The cloak was still trying to do the same thing, and somehow Stark managed to get enough leverage to twist sideways, pulling the bear with him. As he did, the cloak released its hold on the bear and managed to shield the boy more thoroughly.

The creature roared, but Stark had it, now – he just didn't know what to _do_ with it.

" _Tony!"_

A portal opened right beside him, the light grabbing Stark's attention even as Friday pointed it out to him. He didn't know where it went, but anywhere was better than there, and the bear was tossed through the portal – which closed immediately.

"Peter!"

With the suit still engaged, Stark went to the ground next to the truck and the cloak, followed immediately by Strange, who waved a hand and lit up the area with a light as bright as day and pretty much fell beside Ironman as his ankle gave way.

The cloak moved to the side, looking a bit worse for wear from having taken the brunt of the bear attack, but it was Peter who wasn't moving. His shirt and sweatshirt were splattered with crimson and his face was dangerously pale.

"Peter?"

Stark ran his hand against the boy's cheek, Friday already doing a check of Peter's vitals – which was why Tony was still in the suit.

"Move, Tony," Strange ordered, pushing him aside with one hand, already holding a pair of scissors and cutting away the boy's sweatshirt and t-shirt, clearing the clothing to do a search of his own. The boy's side was a bloody mess and there was a bruise already forming on his right cheek and jaw. When he cut the jeans away as well, he found another spot on the boy's thigh that had been sliced open with a well-placed swipe of claws, but although it was bleeding freely, he didn't see any indications of a broken bone.

"Vitals aren't bad," Tony reported, disengaging his helmet. "He's shocky and has lost some blood. Friday doesn't see any indication of anything broken."

"We should get him back to the compound," Strange said, holding a compress against the boys bleeding side, and trying to wrap a bandage around the leg at the same time.

Obviously the no magic thing was done.

"Can I pick him up without hurting him?"

"Yes."

"Friday, advise Pepper what's happening. Have her get medical assistance to Peter's room in the compound."

" _Doing it,"_ came the very calm voice of his AI.

Stark reached down and picked Peter up, carefully, holding him against the metal armor of the suit, and then looked at Strange and nodded. A moment later they all vanished, including the cloak, and the light went out over the campsite, leaving it in darkness and silence once more.

OOOOOOOO

Strange had stripped the blankets off Peter's bed, leaving just the sheets. Before Tony laid the boy on the bed, the doctor put down another layer of cloth to avoid allowing the blood to ruin the bedding.

"What do you need?" Tony asked, stepping to the side to let Strange have access to Peter, but unable to step away.

"Hold these."

Strange was leaning against the boy's bed, letting the furniture take the weight off his injured ankle. He handed Stark a tray that had antiseptic cloths, soft bandages, towels, gloves and several different suture kits on it.

The door to Peter's bedroom opened and a small army of medics came rushing in, along with Pepper, who was dressed in pajamas with a robe over them, and looking worried. Tony was pushed even more to the side, and one of the medics took the tray from him, all of them listening to Strange, who was snapping orders with a calm efficiency that reminded Stark that he was his first choice to have taking care of the boy.

The Cloak of Levitation and Pepper both arrived at Tony at the same time, a faint smoky smell accompanying the relic, accumulated from time near the campfire. Surprisingly, it draped itself over Stark's shoulder, with a corner resting against the man's cheek, watching as the medics worked on Peter.

"What happened?" Pepper asked, wrapping her arms around Tony, and looking at the bed, as well.

"He stayed up late to gorge himself on s'mores," Tony replied, holding her close and needing the support she was always willing to give him. "I don't know after that. I woke up and the bear was already at him."

There was another motion at the door to Peter's room and he turned and saw Romanoff rushing in, dressed in what she'd been sleeping in and obviously aware of what had happened – or at least, who it had happened to. Stark hadn't had a chance to wake her to let her know they were there, but Pepper might have done so on her way there.

"What's going on, Tony?" Natasha asked, coming over to stand beside him as well, her eyes on the bed and the people around it, clearly wanting to ask Stephen how Peter was, but knowing full well to let him do what he was doing, instead. The cloak reached out to touch her cheek and she glanced over at it, frowning when she saw that it had actual tears in the fabric and seemed to have blood spattered on it. "It was _really_ a bear?"

"Yeah."

The activity around the bed was slowing; Strange had moved from the boy's side and was now working on the leg, taking equipment from the medics holding the tray and asking questions and giving answers with a low, steady voice. He was dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt and was standing on one leg, barefoot, except for the bandage wrapped around his ankle, but he still somehow managed to look like how a world class doctor should look.

A gurney was rolled into the room, and only fifteen minutes after they'd started working on the boy, everyone stepped back and Peter was transferred carefully over to it, covered with a blanket and whisked out of the room.

Strange turned toward them, but was forced to sit on the edge of the bed rather than give them his report standing, and the cloak transferred to his shoulder, caressing his hair and cheek.

"They're going to go do some x-rays," he said, explaining the boy's departure. "Then they'll bring him back here."

"Is he okay?" Tony asked.

"Considering he was mauled by a _bear_? Yes. No obvious breaks, a nasty bump on the side of his face – since there aren't any claw marks, I'd say he hit the truck – a nasty set of claw marks on his side, here." The doctor gestured to his own right side, up by the ribcage and under the armpit. "I put twenty nine stitches there, and fourteen more in his right thigh. He lost a little blood, but he heals fast enough that _that_ won't be an issue."

"He's going to be okay?" Natasha confirmed.

Strange nodded, and then took a deep breath, relieved.

"Yes. He'll be fine. Might have some interesting _scars_ to show from it, though."

"What happened?" Natasha asked.

Tony shrugged; he really didn't know.

"I woke up, rushed outside and saw the bear trying to kill him, the cloak all over the _bear_ and Peter pinned against the truck. We'll have to ask _him_ when he wakes up."

Strange turned his attention to the cloak, frowning at the rips he saw and pulling the relic from his shoulder so he could get a better look at the damages. Natasha walked over as well, and it reached a corner out to touch her, ignoring the examination that was taking place.

"Do we get a sewing kit?" Natasha asked, wondering how one would mend a ripped piece of magic.

"The tears will heal themselves," Stephen assured them, running his hands along the fabric. "It needs cleaned, but that can wait until morning, I think."

"How's your ankle?" Pepper asked.

"It's fine."

"Since we're here, you might as well have it checked to make sure your initial diagnosis was right," Tony pointed out.

Strange nodded his agreement.

"Peter shouldn't be gone for long. I'll go check the x-rays and talk to the lab tech at the same time."

He winced when he tried to stand and Natasha gave him a shoulder to lean on, which he did with a nod of appreciation.

"I'll be back with more news as soon as I can."

This time it was Tony who nodded.

"I'll wait here for Peter, in case he wakes up."

Strange left with Natasha supporting his awkward gait, and the cloak returning to his shoulder, and Tony took the abandoned spot on the edge of Peter's bed, putting his arms around Pepper once more when she stood in front of him and held him. He rested his head against her belly, and she ran her fingers through his unkempt hair.

"I thought _Stephen_ was the one who was going to get eaten," she admitted.

Despite his crazy and scary evening, Stark smiled and nodded, not moving out of her embrace.

"So did I."


	9. Chapter 9

It was still dark outside the bedroom window when a motion from the boy bundled in the bed drew Tony's attention from his brooding. As he watched, Peter turned his head and opened his eyes, unerringly spotting Stark, who already knew the boy had some way of knowing who was around him, even when he was just waking up. There was a dark bruise on the side of his face, going sporadically from just below his eye down to his jaw, but he seemed fairly alert when he looked at Tony.

"Hey…"

Stark smiled, relieved, and put his hand on Peter's forehead, leaning over and pressing his cheek against the boy's bruised one for just a moment, wanting to hug him in relief but unwilling to put any pressure anywhere near his ribs or the stitches.

Peter was shirtless, with a wide bandage taped along his right side, from armpit to just above the bottom of his ribcage. There were a few bruises forming there, as well, since the claws that had hit him had apparently been accompanied by a paw that had terrific force behind it. Nothing like what Loki had done to him before, but still worth keeping an eye on.

"Hi."

"Where are we?"

"Your room at the compound."

Peter frowned.

"We're supposed to be _camping_."

"Bear attacks take precedence."

"But we're going _back_ , right?"

"No. _You're_ going to stay in bed until Stephen says it's safe for you to get up. Then we'll try to explain to May how I managed to almost get you eaten by a bear."

"It was an _accident_. The little bears were heading for the water – or the _table_ , maybe – and they didn't see me or didn't realize I was in the way, and the next thing I knew the big one was after me and I couldn't get out of the way."

"There were other bears?"

"A couple littler ones," Peter confirmed, trying to sit up and wincing as he managed to do so. Tony put another pillow behind him, to prop him more upright. "How did I get away?"

"The cloak kept it from hurting you worse until I got it off you."

"Did you hurt it?"

Tony scowled, wondering how the boy would have reacted if he'd managed to blast the thing to save him, but was relieved that he didn't have to find out.

"No. Stephen made a portal and I chucked it through."

"Into the _woods_?"

"It's _fine_ , Peter," Stark told him, impatiently. " _You're_ the one it was trying to kill."

"I think it was hurt," Peter told him. "It was limping."

"It looked pretty healthy to me."

"Are _you_ okay?" Peter asked him.

"Yeah. I was in the suit. Not even a scratch."

Just scared out of his mind with all new nightmare fodder to deal with, most likely.

"Did the little ones go in the portal, too?"

"No. I didn't see the other ones."

And wouldn't have taken the time to look if he _had_ , he had to admit – but was wise enough to keep that to himself. His thoughts had only been on Peter.

"What about _them_?"

"They're _fine_ , Peter. Bears are tough."

The boy looked down at himself, but he wasn't convinced, Tony could tell.

"So I'm _okay_?"

"Yeah. Some stitches and a bump on the side of your head."

"Then we can go back, right?"

"No. We're done camping – for now, anyway."

"But I was having a good time."

"So was _I_. But you're hurt, and I'm not-"

"You just _said_ I was okay."

"You're okay for someone who was attacked by a _bear_ ," Tony told him, exasperated at the boy's single-mindedness. "You're not okay to go camping."

"Did I break anything?"

"No."

"I'm not still bleeding from anywhere?"

"No. But you have a million stitches keeping you from leaking all over the place."

"Is Doctor Strange okay?"

"Yes. They x-rayed his ankle and confirmed there's no break. But that _doesn't_ mean we're going back," Stark told him, well aware where the boy's argument was going.

"But-"

"What's going on?" a voice from the doorway interrupted, drawing their attention.

Peter smiled automatically when he saw Natasha, and Romanoff walked over to the other side of the bed, climbed onto it so she could cuddle right up against him and kissed his forehead gently before carefully putting an arm around him.

" _He_ wants to go back and finish the camping trip," Stark told her.

She frowned.

"You're _hurt_ , though."

"Not bad."

"Bad enough."

"I could sit by the fire, or the lake, and could probably even still _fish_. It's not like I want to go on a hiking trip or anything, or even canoeing. It's just _camping_. You do a lot of sitting and I can do that with bandages."

Besides, maybe he could find the bear cubs and their mother. Or at least tell the rangers so _they_ could try to find them. They needed to know about the guys with the bows, anyway.

"But what if the bear comes back for round two?"

" _Please_ , Natasha…?" Peter said, looking at her hopefully. "I've never done it before, and I was having so much fun. I wouldn't do anything _dangerous_ , and-"

"Hey," Stark interrupted, pointing his hand at the boy. "No. No puppy eyes. You're hurt, and you're staying in _bed_."

Peter looked devastated, and Tony had to look away to keep from changing his mind. Natasha's grip on the boy tightened, imperceptibly, and she glanced over at Stark.

"What does _Stephen_ say?"

Since Strange hadn't wanted to go camping in the first place, Stark realized that he would probably be the perfect ally in this battle of wills. He was Peter's _doctor_ , after all, and Tony was sure that with his injured ankle the last thing he'd want to do was go back to the lake.

"We haven't spoken to him, yet."

"It probably wouldn't kill him to sit by the lake for a few days…"

"It _almost_ did."

"I didn't almost _die_ ," Peter objected. "It wasn't _that_ big of a bear, and-"

"You didn't almo-" Stark scowled and stood up. "I am _not_ having this conversation with you right now."

"But-"

"No. I _mean_ it. You stay in bed and get some rest. Romanoff? Keep him right there. Sit on him if you have to, and try to talk some sense into him."

He stalked out of the room muttering to himself and they watched him leave.

"It _sounds_ like it was a pretty big bear," Natasha said, resting her cheek on Peter's head and running her fingers through his hair, soothing him as she had so many nights when he'd been sick.

"There were _little_ bears, too," he told her, leaning into her until his cheek was pressed against her collarbone and then closing his eyes. She relaxed him just by being with him, and he knew she always would. "They're probably looking for her."

"They're fine," she said. "Even if they're yearlings, by now they're old enough to know what to do to keep themselves safe until she finds them."

He didn't even ask how she knew so much about bears. As far as he was concerned, she knew everything. He just nodded.

"I hope so."

"You'll see."

She held him until he fell asleep, and then continued to hold him to avoid waking him. And because she wanted to.

OOOOOOOO

Stark found Strange in the lounge, despite the late hour. The doctor had had his ankle expertly wrapped by one of the medical staff that had helped him work on Peter, and was now sitting on a sofa with his foot propped in a chair with a fresh icepack on it. He was carefully checking the cloak for any damage or tears that he might have missed before, and the cloak wasn't making it easy, since it apparently wanted to cuddle – or maybe it was just trying to convince him that he didn't _really_ need to clean it later.

He looked over when Tony flopped down beside him with an exasperated sigh.

"Do I even _want_ to know why you look so annoyed?"

"Peter woke up."

Strange frowned.

"And that annoyed you because…?"

"He wants to finish the camping trip."

"He just got attacked by a bear."

"I know."

"He could have been killed."

"I know _that_ , too."

"Is he crazy?"

"He's worried about the bear."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Something about baby bears and that it was hurt, and-"

"There were cubs?"

"Apparently."

"That probably explains why the bear attacked him, then."

"No. The bear attacked him because he looked like a human s'more or something. A bear friendly midnight snack."

"Highly unlikely, Tony. Remember, those park rangers said that bears are shy. I imagine if there were young involved it would be a different story. Females can be dangerous when protecting the young. Even _I_ know that."

"Which leads me to the next issue. _Romanoff_."

"What about her?"

"Peter gave her his big sad eyes and now she's not against the idea of him going back. She asked what you thought about it."

"It's crazy. He's got 43 stitches holding him together. The last thing he needs is to be in the great outdoors. He should be in bed, taking it easy."

" _Great_. I'm glad to hear you say that. Go tell _her_ , will you?"

"She's not going to listen to me. You know _that_."

"You're a doctor. You're _Peter's_ doctor. She'll listen."

"She'll _listen_ , and then she'll talk me into whatever it is she wants me to do."

Strange was well aware that Natasha Romanoff had him wrapped around her little finger, and most of the time he was fine with it – even if it meant admitting it to Stark. Of course, _Tony_ had the same issue when it came to Pepper – and he'd been there a lot longer. It helped a little to know that Peter had Natasha wrapped around _his_ little finger, too. She was indomitable, but even she had a weakness.

"Just talk to her, okay? Tell her your foot hurts and you can't put any weight on it and it wouldn't be fair to make _me_ play nursemaid to you and Peter at the campsite – and do all the cooking, and the dishwashing."

"I'll talk to her in the morning," Strange promised him.

"Good."

"You might as well go tell Pepper we'll be going back to the campsite tomorrow, sometime."

Tony scowled.

"Try a little harder than that, okay?"


	10. Chapter 10

"Are you _sure_ about this?" Pepper asked Natasha the next morning.

"Someone has to do it. If we let them go alone, _Tony's_ the next to fall, you know? It comes in threes, they say."

"That's a _lot_ of testosterone in one small tent."

"I'll have Stephen magic me up my _own_ tent."

Pepper smiled and then shrugged.

"Try to keep them out of trouble, will you?"

"If anyone can, it'll be me," she assured her, picking up her bag and opening the trunk of the car and then waving to Pepper as she got in.

Peter had been bundled into the back seat of one of Tony's cars, since Natasha's sports car wasn't as suitable for carrying the four of them – especially since Strange was better off stretching his injured foot across the back seat when possible. In _her_ car it wouldn't have been, but with the sedan that wouldn't be an issue. One of them would have to drive it _home_ – Tony couldn't drive it and the truck, and since Strange had sprained the wrong ankle, it would probably be her. She didn't mind.

"This is _crazy_ ," Tony said when they were all in the car, he had kissed Pepper goodbye – _again_ – and got behind the wheel. "Stephen can wave his hand and we'll be there in ten seconds."

"And if someone is at the campsite and _sees_ us?" Strange had pointed out. "Then what? I spend the next several hours explaining that I'm a master of the mystic arts and hope they don't have something recording at just the wrong time?"

"Or _worse_ , they start shooting, thinking you're aliens or something," Natasha added.

Stark supposed that made sense, but he didn't want to admit it. He was in the front with Natasha, Stephen was in the back with his foot up on Peter's thigh – the _left_ thigh that wasn't sporting a bandage and stitches under his clean jeans. The cloak was draped over Peter's shoulder, crooning a cheerful lullaby in his mind and once more trying to put him to sleep. The doctor's ankle was far less sore that morning – thanks to constant icing and elevation – but keeping it up was better, and Peter didn't mind being used as a footstool.

Besides, Strange wanted to be close enough to Peter to keep an eye on him. The boy had been stiff and sore when he'd woken, although he hadn't complained at all about it. Strange assumed the Peter wouldn't say a word that might jeopardize his chances of continuing the camping trip and he'd carefully checked for any swelling around the neat rows of stitches he'd put along the claw marks – both on Peter's side and along his thigh.

They were red enough that he ordered up a prescription of antibiotics to avoid any infection, but he _couldn't_ honestly tell Natasha or Tony that Peter was hurt so badly that he needed to stay in bed.

So after breakfast they headed north once more, this time with a little more company and far less equipment.

OOOOOOOOOO

By the time the car pulled into the campsite late that morning, Peter had fallen asleep, using the cloak as a pillow, Stephen had dozed off using a jacket for a pillow, and the green truck parked beside Tony's proved that they had been wise driving into the site rather than just popping in using magic. Both of them woke up when the car stopped, and the arrival brought the two park rangers from the other side of the tent.

"Mr. Stark," the older man – the one who had been driving before – said, holding out his hand when Tony got out of the car, followed by the others, who were moving much slower. "We were a little worried about you guys."

He looked over at Natasha, who gave him a smile as she was helping Peter out of the back seat. The boy and Strange both asked the cloak to stay in the car for the moment, and it didn't even twitch, much preferring the car to pretending to be a blanket.

"We're okay," Tony told him, shaking his hand. "We just had a bit of a problem last night."

" _Bear_ , from the looks of the tracks," the younger ranger noted, pointing at the obvious signs of scuffle in the dirt and gravel near the truck.

Natasha wasn't any kind of tracker when it came to wildlife, but even _she_ could see the bear prints, and the blood when she walked over with Peter. The prints were impossibly large, making it all that much more remarkable that Peter had escaped with relatively so little damage.

"Yeah, Peter here got between a bear and a cub in the dark last night," Tony told him. "Pretty scary."

The older man looked at the boy.

"Are you alright, son?"

It was obvious that he'd been injured, just by the way he was walking.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

" _Forty-two_ stitches," Tony said. "Right leg and side."

"Lucky you were with him," the ranger said. "You and a _surgeon_. Couldn't _be_ luckier than that."

"What happened to _you_?" the younger ranger asked when Strange joined them, obviously limping.

"I just sprained my ankle walking on the shore," Stephen told him. "It's fine."

"Do you mind if we talk to Peter about what happened?" the first ranger asked. "Him being a minor, we have to have permission – you're welcome to sit in on the talk. We just need to document whenever something like happens."

"It's up to him," Tony said. "Peter?"

The boy nodded.

"Sure."

They all went over and sat down at the picnic table. The younger ranger brought out a camera and asked to take photos of his injuries, and both rangers shook their heads when they saw the claw marks the bear had left on the boy's hide.

Then they ran him through the events of what had happened – up to the point that he could remember, since he'd been knocked out by the bear's initial attack.

"How did you get away so lightly?" The older ranger asked. "Unarmed like you were."

Peter looked at Tony, helplessly. He obviously couldn't mention that he'd been saved by a _magic cloak_ that had wrapped itself up in the bear's claws and teeth. And certainly couldn't mention that Strange had created a magical portal to send the bear through.

Stark was ready with an answer, though.

"I used the Ironman suit and managed to get between him and the bear. He'd been knocked out, maybe that confused it a bit."

"You didn't kill it?"

"No. It had cubs. Once I got Peter away from it, I'm not sure where it went. I was concentrating on him, obviously."

"Obviously."

"And you think it was _injured_?" the ranger asked.

Peter nodded. He'd mentioned the limp that he thought he'd detected.

"Go get the arrow, Peter," Tony told him.

He would have gotten it himself to save the boy the movement, but he wasn't sure where it was.

While Peter was gone, Stark gave an abbreviated version of the story of Peter and the guys he saw hunting while he was out exploring. When the boy returned the rangers took the arrow and decided that it was entirely possible that it had been chewed by a large carnivore of some sort – although they _wouldn't_ confirm it was the same bear that had attacked Peter.

"We've taken enough of your time," the older ranger said, standing up. "If you need us, please call – or if you find anything _else_ , of course."

He handed Stark his card, and the two got into their truck and left – taking Peter's arrow with them.

"So where do I put my tent?" Natasha asked Stark, looking around.

"The tent is _up_ ," he replied, pointing at their tent. Of course the door was mangled, but he'd have Strange take care of that.

"That's _your_ tent. I'm not sleeping with you guys."

Stark smirked.

"The permit only allows one tent, Romanoff. Sleep with us, or sleep under the sky."

"Or I could sleep in the _truck_."

"If you find any room."

She glanced at the cab and frowned.

"Why are the coolers in there?"

"Ironically, they are there to keep the bears away," Stephen told her. "We can ask Peter how well that works, I suppose."

"Just sleep with _us_ , Natasha," Peter said. "It'll be more comfortable than trying to sleep in the back of the car. And not so lonely."

Romanoff sighed, and then shrugged.

"Then I suppose I'm sleeping in the tent."

How bad could it be?


	11. Chapter 11

While Natasha was settling in, getting her sleeping bag into the tent and looking around the immediate area of the campsite, the others settled themselves at the picnic table. Stephen and Tony started playing cards, and Peter went to work on the cloak, cleaning it with the special solution that Strange produced, and the towel that would keep the dirt, blood and smoky residue from smearing.

The cloak muttered sullenly in his mind when he started cleaning it, but Peter ignored it, reminding the relic that it didn't like to be _dirty_ even more than it didn't like to be _damp_. He brushed his hand against one of the small tears caused by the fight with the bear, and rubbed it, absently.

"Does it _hurt_?" he asked the cloak.

There was a negative response, and a corner of fabric came up and caressed his cheek so tenderly that Peter had to smile. Stark and Strange stopped their game to watch.

" _That_ isn't natural," Stark murmured to Stephen.

"What? A boy having a two way conversation with an ancient magical cape that saved him from a wild bear attack? What's unnatural about _that_?"

Peter heard the comment, but didn't respond. He was focused on the cloak just then.

"Is there anything I can do to help you get fixed?"

It was ripped because of _him_ , after all.

It gave him another negative answer, and he went back to cleaning it, his touch as gentle as he could make it while still getting the thing clean.

"It won't take long for it to mend, Peter," Strange guaranteed him, smiling as Natasha came over and sat down beside him, across from Peter. "A few days, at the most, and you won't even be able tell where it was torn."

"Unlike _Peter_ , who will take at least twice that," Tony said, reaching over with his free hand and ruffling the boy's hair, affectionately.

By the time the cloak was clean – very _damp_ , but clean and no longer smelling like the fire pit for the _moment_ , at least, they were all ready to eat. Over a simple meal of sandwiches and chips, Natasha asked them what kind of wildlife they'd seen so far – other than bears, of course. All three of the guys pulled out their cameras to show her what they'd managed to capture so far, and she had to admit that she was pretty impressed – especially of the one Stephen had taken of the deer at the lake with the sun rising behind them all.

Ater they finished eating, Peter retired to a chair by the water, bundled with a couple of blankets since the cloak was wet and had draped itself over the side of the pickup bed, apparently deciding if it had dried their clothes so well, it was probably the best place for _it_ to be dried as well.

Stephen approved whole-heartedly and joined him, sitting in a chair as well, his foot propped up on a handy log, also covered in several blankets. The sun was up, but there were a line of clouds coming in and they were keeping it from being as warm as it had been the previous days. Both ended up falling asleep, not surprisingly, and Stark and Romanoff simply made sure they weren't in any precarious position that might dump them from their seats and let them sleep.

It had actually been what _Tony_ had hoped for.

"Do you mind watching Peter for me?" he asked her, standing near the picnic table.

She frowned.

"Where are _you_ going?"

"Bear hunting."

"What?"

"I'm going to see if I can find those cubs – and mamma."

"Can you _do_ that?"

He shrugged, activating most of the Ironman suit but leaving his head free and clear – it was easier to talk to her this way.

"Shouldn't be a problem. He said there were two babies, and I'll find them, first. Make sure they're okay and then look for a wounded adult and see if they're anywhere near each other. Stephen couldn't tell me exactly where his portal terminated, but he gave me a general direction."

"You _softie_ …"

He shrugged.

"Don't tell Peter, okay? I don't want to get his hopes up if it doesn't work."

She nodded.

"Happy hunting."

OOOOOOOOOO

It wasn't _quite_ that easy. For one thing, he had to be careful when and where he used his thrusters in the trees. The last thing he needed was to start a forest fire being careless. Luckily, he had Friday to double check everywhere that he activated them, making sure there wasn't even a chance of catching something on fire.

He found a good place to begin and then simply hovered just above the trees and gave the AI free rein to scan the area. He didn't know how much a cub would travel any given day, and the database Friday was tapped into said it varied by individual so that wasn't any help. He wasn't worried, though. His scanners were up to finding a needle in a haystack, they could certainly find bear cubs in a tract of trees.

During the next ten minutes Tony found out just what a dizzying array of creatures there actually were in this area of woodland. He sifted the information that Friday was tossing at him easily, he was used to doing it in a combat situation, after all, and this was anything but that. The AI would see a creature, classify it absently and go onto the next, while Stark watched its progress. The place teemed with all kinds of little things; rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons, skunks – like Peter had already shown them – and even a couple of porcupines. There were also deer a plenty, hanging out in groups or separately, and he was surprised to see pigs go flashing through the data. Even a coyote that seemed to be wandering aimlessly, probably looking for a rabbit.

 _"Got the babies,"_ Friday announced, cutting into his contemplation.

Two little bears came up on his HUD, four miles away and not moving.

"Are we sure they're right ones?"

 _"Nope. But they're the only ones within the area that fit the scope of my scanning parameters. I found_ mom _, too."_

"Really? You're sure?"

The imagine joined the cubs on his HUD. Much bigger, much further away – thanks to Strange – and even limping just as Peter had said.

" _There aren't a lot of bears in the area,"_ The AI informed him. _"It wasn't that hard."_

He scowled, thinking that maybe Friday was spending too much time with Pepper. Or maybe he'd done too good a job of things.

"Injuries to the mother?"

 _"Puncture wound on the rear left flank."_

"Caused by an _arrow_ , most likely, then…"

" _You'd have to ask her. It is consistent with the size of the head on the arrow Peter found."_

"Bastards." Tony wasn't heartless, and certainly didn't hate nature, after all. It was his idea to go camping in the first place. "Let's pick up the kids and get them closer to momma."

Rounding up two half-grown bear cubs wasn't an easy task – even for Ironman. It wasn't _dangerous_ , really. He had the suit and it had handled the mother just fine, but he was in thick brush and didn't dare use thrusters so he ended up running after them, feeling like he was chasing down chickens, or greased pigs. The cubs seemed to realize that _they_ were his targets and didn't want anything to do with him. He plucked one out of a tree, holding it with as gently as he could in one metal encased arm as it wriggled and squealed against his side, and then found the brother caught up in a tangle of blackberry bushes. With one in each arm, doing unmentionable things on his Ironman suit – things that bears were only supposed to do in the _woods_ – Tony found a safe clearing and directed Friday back into the air.

OOOOOOOO

Peter and Natasha were playing chess when Stark walked out of the woods. They both looked up at his approach, and he stole the bottle of water that was by the boy's captured pieces. Taking a drink, he sat down next to Peter, winking at Romanoff cheerfully.

"Where'd you go?" Peter asked, curiously. "Natasha said you went for a hike."

He would have gone, if he'd been awake. Spending time with Stark was one of the things he enjoyed best, after all.

"I went looking for those cubs you were so worried about."

The boy's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"Really?"

"You'll be happy to know they are safe and sound and have been found by their mother."

"Is she okay?"

"She is fine. You were _right_ , though; she does have an injury. Probably that arrow you found. Friday says it isn't life threatening and will heal."

Peter smiled, and couldn't help but hug Tony – both in relief for something that had been nagging at him and because he knew instinctively that Tony had done what he'd done for _him_. Tony rolled his eyes when he saw Romanoff's warm smile at the sight, but he put his arms around the boy and hugged him back, carefully, and only let him go when Peter released him.

The boy wasn't going to be willing to hug him like that once he got older, and Tony _knew_ it.

"I'll call the rangers and let them know where I found her."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. But _now_ you have to help do dishes tonight."

Fair was fair. Cleaning baby bear crap off the Ironman suit had not been his idea of entertainment, after all.

Peter grinned.

"Okay."


	12. Chapter 12

Dinner was a satisfying beef stew whipped up by Natasha and Peter, allowing Stark the chance to relax after his afternoon of bear wrangling. Strange woke up feeling fairly well rested and hardly limping on the injured ankle, proving the rest had done _it_ as much good as it had done _him_. He hobbled a little, but didn't need help getting around any longer. He and Tony played chess while waiting for them to make dinner, and were hungry enough to look for seconds when Peter and Natasha served it up.

The clouds that had blocked out the sun earlier were now threatening to drop some rain on them, but while the air was heavy with the threat, there weren't any raindrops, yet, so after thy were done eating, Strange stoked up the fire and the adults left the dishes to Peter – who said he didn't mind doing them _alone_ – and relaxed around the fire.

Tony gave them a more descriptive account of how he'd collected the bear cubs and left them close enough to their mother that she found them, but not so close that she had any idea that there had been any help on _his_ part. Peter took a bit to finish doing the dishes – with no assistance from the cloak that was trying to help but kept pushing things off the table, or dropping them. He was close enough to hear the story, though, and didn't feel left out – and really, doing camping dishes wasn't quite the scullery that doing the dishes at _home_ was.

It was still new enough to be an adventure.

"How do you feel?" Strange asked the boy when he finished and went to join them, carrying a roasting skewer, the bag of marshmallows and a paper plate with chocolate and graham crackers stacked on it.

"I'm okay."

"Sore?"

"Just a little."

"Are you saying that to keep us from worrying," Tony asked. "Or are you _really_ okay?"

"No. It hardly hurts at all. My head hurts more than anything."

"Considering the dent you put in the truck, that isn't too surprising," Stephen said, giving the boy a slight smile.

Natasha had never had a s'more – not that surprising, really – and Peter made her one, which she proclaimed delicious and at the same time just a little too sweet for her tastes. He explained that May had taught him how to make them just using the flame from the kitchen stove to roast the marshmallow. The ones charred over the campfire were even better, as far as _he_ was concerned.

"This place is pretty nice, Tony," Natasha said, looking at the lake which was now only reflecting the fire, since there weren't any stars out. "How did you find it?"

"I know a guy, who knows a guy. He mentioned it, so I did a little research and figured it would be more of an adventure than one of the places that rent out cabins."

"It's definitely that," Strange said as a fat raindrop landed on his head.

Several more followed, causing the fire to sputter and the group to hastily gather up their blankets, the cards and the chess set, which were shoved into the tent and all the cooking supplies which went into the cab of the truck. By the time they ducked into the tent, zipping the newly repaired door behind them, the rain was coming down hard and thunder could be heard in the distance.

Stark turned on one battery powered lantern and Natasha another, hanging it from a hook above them. They sat on their sleeping bags, with the cloak draped over Peter's shoulder, and played cards, listening to the storm outside and covering up with their extra blankets even though they weren't too chilly in the tent with the four of them providing body heat and the cloak generating some warmth of its own.

"This rain will not make fishing very fun tomorrow," Strange pointed out.

He'd actually had a good time fishing and with his ankle better had planned to give it another go. Standing in a rainstorm was not his idea of a fun time, though – not to catch a fish he had no intention of keeping, anyway.

"The fish bite _more_ when it's raining," Tony told them.

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone knows it."

" _I've_ never heard of it. Natasha?"

"Nope."

"Peter?"

The boy hesitated, looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

"Um… I might have read it somewhere…"

Strange rolled his eyes and Stark beamed, reaching over and patting Peter's shoulder.

"I'm going to bed," Stephen said, tossing his cards into the middle of the pile.

"Me, too," Romanoff agreed gathering up the cards.

Of course, she hadn't had a nap during the afternoon, and didn't have a million marshmallows running through her system to keep her awake, either.

Her sleeping bag had been put between Stephen and Peter where she'd have the advantage of someone warm on either side of her. She really wouldn't have cared, but with the rain she didn't mind the idea of being warm _and_ having someone to cuddle up against.

All three adults looked over when Peter stood up, though.

"Where are _you_ going?" Tony asked.

"Bathroom."

An umbrella appeared, leaning against the entrance of the tent, but Stark stood up as well.

"I'll go with you."

"I'm not going to get _lost_."

"I'm not worried about you getting _lost_ ," Tony said. "There's probably a moose out there, waiting for a chance to get you alone and try to take you out."

Natasha snickered, and Peter threw her a look that only made her giggle. His baby face was not capable of any sort of rebuke or reproach, really, and it was amusing to see him try it. Peter rolled his eyes, cheerfully, just pleased to make her smile, and he and Stark left the tent, sharing the umbrella – which no one had actually packed.

" _Are_ you going to fish tomorrow?" Natasha asked, turning off the overhead lantern before climbing into her sleeping bag and cuddling up to Strange, more than willing to steal some warmth from him and the cloak – which had shown no inclination to go out into the rain with Peter. Affection only went so far when it came to getting wet, obviously.

He rolled onto his side to face her, resting his weight on one elbow, the light of the single lantern casting all kinds of odd shadows from behind her.

"I _might_. Don't tell Tony, but it was exciting, really, to feel that there was something on the other end of the line trying to get away."

She smiled at that.

"Show me how?"

"I'm not sure that catching two fish makes me an _expert_ , but yes, if you want to stand in the rain with me and risk catching a cold, then I'll show you how."

She reached up and pulled his head down to steal a kiss.

"I know a pretty good doctor who could nurse me back to health," she pointed out.

It was his turn to smile and he deepened the kiss for just a moment.

"Unless I get sick, too, of course," he told her. "And I'll warn you now, I am a _terrible_ patient."

"I'll risk it."


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Sorry about the delay today. Work is killing me a little so it had to come first. The weekend is here, though!_

OOOOOOOOOO

Morning found the rain still coming down fairly hard. When Stark came out of the tent he found Peter standing by the fire pit, holding the umbrella and trying to stay dry while watching the fire blaze cheerfully. The coffee pot was already on the grate, which was thoughtful since the boy didn't drink the stuff himself.

He looked over when Tony walked over and held the umbrella toward him, an obvious invitation to share it – which Stark was more than willing to do.

"You okay?" he asked, holding his hands out to the fire since Peter was holding the umbrella.

"Yeah."

It was a fair question, whether Peter realized it or not. The boy hadn't fallen asleep immediately the night before. Because of the storm, the stitches or the marshmallow induced sugar coursing through his system Tony didn't know, but it had been late when Peter had finally drifted off, and even then his sleep had been restless.

He'd tossed and turned and mumbled in his sleep enough that Stark had finally reached out an arm and pulled the boy against his side, holding him still to keep him from waking the others and to steady him if he was having a nightmare. That had worked. Peter had quieted and when Tony woke next, the boy had been gone. The sky outside the tent was light enough that he was able to see that Natasha and Stephen were both still asleep, the cloak draped over them probably warming them enough to keep them that way for a while longer.

"How's the side?"

"It's not too bad."

"Hurts?"

"Yeah, a little."

"And the leg?"

"Stiff. But that might be from sleeping on the ground. We might want to think about air mattresses or something next time."

"I agree."

Stark left the umbrella's shelter long enough to go to the truck and grab a few cups. He set two upside down on the picnic table and used a towel to keep from burning his hand when he poured himself a cup of coffee. Then rejoined the boy under the umbrella to warm up his outsides as well.

"Thanks."

The boy shrugged.

"I'm sorry if I kept you up last night."

"Bad dreams?"

"Not Mind stone related," Peter said, which was the first thing that Tony always worried about, and Peter had to know it by now. "Just the bear coming at me, lots of teeth. Stuff like that."

"Scary."

"No. _Now_ it is, but when it happened I wasn't really afraid at all. Not because I'm _brave_ or anything, but I was so surprised it was a bear – and then so surprised that it was coming at me I just didn't have a chance to be afraid."

"That's normal, I suppose."

"Yeah. That's what I thought, too. Are Natasha and Doctor Strange still asleep?"

"Yup. Your cloak is keeping them warm, so they might sleep a while."

Tony saw the boy smile.

"I guess it will take on a bear for me, but not rain."

"It has its priorities straight," Stark agreed. " _I'd_ take on a bear for you, too, but don't even _think_ about going anywhere with that umbrella."

"I was thinking about doing some fishing…"

" _Now_?"

Peter nodded.

"We can't make breakfast until they get up, and _you're_ here to keep the fire from going out, now. Besides, I hear that the fish bite more when it's raining."

Tony snorted, amused, taking a sip of his coffee.

"You don't want company?"

"Do you _want_ to come?"

"No. I can't fish and drink coffee."

Which was what the boy had expected to hear, obviously.

"You don't mind?"

"No. Not if you have your heart set on it. Stay where I can see you, though – and keep your hood up."

Peter handed the umbrella to Stark and he watched as the boy trotted over to the truck, grabbed a pole and a jar of the bait and then went to the lake shore. His first cast was as bad as all of the others had been, really, but it did the job and a moment later Peter settled in to wait, staring at the bright red bobber that was floating some twenty five feet away, ignoring the rain that was soaking through his sweatshirt and drenching his hair.

Stark shook his head, feeling a surge of affection for the boy that made him pull out his camera and snap a couple of photos of the scene. Then he poured himself another cup of coffee.

OOOOOOOO

"It's a little _early_ to be fishing."

Tony didn't turn his head to acknowledge Stephen's approach – he'd heard the footsteps on the gravel but had been watching as Peter recast his line, the motion a bit more experienced, now, and a lot smoother.

"He's been doing it for about an hour."

"And you're not out there with him?"

Stark shook his head.

" _My_ job is to keep the fire from going out, and to make coffee when the pot runs dry. How is the ankle?"

"It's fine. Just a twinge every now and then."

"Good."

"He's _soaked_ ," Strange noted, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well, burning his hand trying to juggle the pot, the mug and the large umbrella that he was holding.

"He's having fun, though. He's caught six already."

"Really?"

"I have photos to prove it." Stark smiled. "Of course, he let them all go, but I still have proof. Something about rain must really make the fish bite."

"Or it _could_ be the time of day..."

"It's probably the _rain_."

"Speaking of the rain," Strange said. "How about you let me do something about this?"

"You can make it stop raining?"

The doctor rolled his eyes heavenward, as if asking for help dealing with him. Of course, he'd been dealing with him for a while, now, so he was getting used to it.

"I was thinking more along the line of a shelter of sorts. Something to keep from getting breakfast wet and to afford us a place to put the chairs without worrying about being washed away."

"And if someone _sees_ you?"

"So go Ironman and use those impressive scanners of yours to make sure no one is around to _watch_."

Tony hesitated, but only for a minute, really. _He_ didn't want to be wet any more than Strange did – and it _would_ be a good idea to have some kind of shelter. Maybe something that could keep the heat from the fire from escaping quite so readily.

He activated his suit and had Friday run a quick scan of the area and then nodded, deactivating the suit.

"You're clear," he reported.

A moment later there was an open sided tent-like creation over them. It had a canvas top that was arched enough to allow the rainwater to cascade down it rather than pool on top, and two sides were clear heavy plastic, giving some shelter from any gusts and allowing a little protection from the chill. It wasn't right over the fire – since that would have trapped the smoke in as well – but it was close enough to it that the heat from the blaze was already warming the area. It was even staked down, proving that Stephen didn't want it to get blown away if an actual gust did come up.

"Nice."

"If I do say so, myself."

Their chairs were suddenly inside the sheltered area as well – as was a small folding table that would do nicely for eating as well as anything else they may want to do.

Both men put away their umbrellas and set their coffee on the table.

"Is Romanoff awake?"

"Yes."

"Then let's start breakfast."

He was hungry. Watching someone fish was hard work


	14. Chapter 14

Natasha didn't join the men under the shelter until breakfast was ready. She'd enjoyed hanging out by the fire the night before, sleeping in a tent out of the rain and most especially the chance to spend time with her guys. Peter had kept her awake a while during the night with some dreams of some kind – tossing and turning and mumbling – and she'd been about ready to bring him up against her side to hold him when Tony had beaten her to it and the boy had settled against Stark instead.

Able to relax knowing that he was in the best of hands (well, she considered _her_ hands the best of hands for Peter, but Stark was a close second) Romanoff had been able to drift off, the warmth of the bodies she was sandwiched between and the sound of the rain and the storm lulling her to sleep as deeply as if she were in her own bed.

She'd woken when Peter had gotten up, but it was daylight outside the tent and she didn't worry that anything was wrong and needed her attention, so she'd gone back to sleep, feeling the extra weight when the cloak had decided to spread itself over her more thoroughly now that it wasn't covering Peter as well. The comforting warmth kept her from getting up when Stark did, as well, assuming correctly that if anything was needed, Tony could and _would_ take care of it.

Only when Stephen had stirred next to her did she allow herself to really wake up, and even then she decided she didn't want to get up just yet. Lounging in bed – or in this case, on the ground in a pile of discarded sleeping bags – was comfortable and relaxing, and that was the whole point of camping, after all. Strange had murmured that he was going to go find some coffee and she didn't need to get up until she was ready. Then he'd kissed her and left her and the cloak cuddling together with the sound of the continuing rain a relaxing backdrop.

Now she was ready to face her day, though, and she'd gotten up, running her fingers through her hair and debating changing out of the jeans she'd slept in into clean clothes. She decided not to bother, and had simply thrown on a sweatshirt with a hood and looked over at the cloak, which was now draped over the area she'd slept in.

"Are you coming with me?" she asked it, well beyond the stage where she'd have felt foolish talking to the relic. "I'm going to go find Peter."

It had simply raised a corner of fabric and made a shooing motion toward her, clearing having no desire to leave the tent. The motion amused her every time she saw it – it was so incredibly human – and she'd left the tent, zipping the door behind her and headed for the shelter that was now standing near the fire pit.

A shelter that she knew hadn't been in the inventory of the initial trip out, and certainly hadn't been brought when she'd joined the group. Obviously Tony was willing to allow a little magic to their camping trip to avoid being uncomfortable. And she agreed wholeheartedly. Especially since it was raining hard enough that her sweatshirt was damp by the time she had crossed the relatively short distance to the shelter from the tent. Which was nothing when compared to how soaked Peter looked when she noticed the boy standing on the edge of the water with a fishing pole in his hands, staring out over the lake.

"Good morning," Stark said, getting out of his chair to pour her a cup of much appreciated coffee. "How'd you sleep?"

She took it with a smile of thanks, and Tony returned to his chair and Natasha sat in one beside him. The table they had in the shelter was also new, and it was set with plates and cutlery for four. The camping skillet on the grate near the fire had scrambled eggs and bacon in it with a clear glass covering on it, keeping the food warm, and the rain out.

"Once I got to sleep, it was great."

"Did the rain keep you up?" Strange asked, curiously.

"No. Peter did."

"He was having some dreams," Tony explained. "Not Mind stone ones – at least that's what he told me this morning – just dreams about the bear attack."

"Nightmares wouldn't be surprising," Stephen pointed out.

"Not even _nightmares_ ," Stark said. "He said he hadn't even had time to be afraid, so it wasn't scary – just a lot of teeth coming at him."

"Aren't you worried that he's going to catch a cold out there?" Natasha asked, watching the boy cast his line again.

"As _Stephen_ told me once, cold and rain won't make you sick – it only increase the likelihood if you're already coming down with something. He's fine. When we're done eating we'll have him dry off and stay where it's warm for a while."

"I'll want to check my handiwork anyway," Strange added.

"How long on breakfast?" she asked, looking at the skillet.

"It's ready. We were just waiting for you, really."

"Then you guys serve it up, and I'll go get him."

"I can do it," Stark offered.

"I'm already wet," she pointed out, setting her coffee down and picking up one of the umbrellas that were leaning against the clear walls of the shelter. "Be right back."

She walked over to Peter, who smiled a good morning to her when he noticed her, and was clearly enjoying himself even though he was as soaked as if he'd taken a swim in the lake fully dressed. His hair was plastered to his head, and his sweatshirt – which was normally a light gray – was so wet it looked black, and his jeans were so wet that he had to hitch them up every now and then. She position the umbrella over him, standing close enough that it covered them both, but not so close that she was touching him.

"Any luck?"

"I've caught seven and a half fish," he told her with a grin.

She saw that the bruise on the side of his face was still vivid, but it didn't seem to be bothering him.

"How do you catch _half_ a fish?" she asked, looking for the fish that he'd caught.

"It got away," he told her. "But it was close enough before my line broke that I could see it – so I count it as a win, even though it wasn't actually in my hands."

"Where are the rest of them?"

"I let them go."

Romanoff smiled.

"So the one that got away would have gotten away anyway. It just didn't _know_ it?"

"Yeah. The fun is in the _catching_."

"Makes sense." She _did_ touch him, then. Enough to brush a kiss against his forehead. His skin was clammy and cold and she decided that even if breakfast hadn't been ready, she would have insisted that he get out of the rain and warm up for a while. "Breakfast is ready. Let's go eat, okay?"

"Okay."

He reeled in his line and hooked the hook to the reel so it wouldn't swing loose and possibly stab him – or worse, _her_ – and they headed for the shelter and the fire.

OOOOOOOO

Tony didn't let Peter eat while he was so wet.

"Go change into something dry," he told the boy when he and Natasha had joined them in the shelter. "We'll keep breakfast warm for you."

"I'll go with you," Strange said, standing up. "I want to check your stitches."

Stark hesitated, because he was tempted to go, too. He wanted to see how Peter was doing as well. He nodded, though, knowing if there were anything wrong Strange would let him know.

Now it was the doctor who picked up the umbrella and walked with Peter back to the tent.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as Peter unzipped the entrance and they went in out of the rain.

The cloak drifted over, crooning cheerfully at seeing Peter, but opting to suspend itself from Strange's shoulder instead of the boy's, since he was much too wet for the relic's tastes.

"Good. Just a bit wet, right now."

Stephen watched as Peter stripped off his soaked clothing and then the doctor carefully pulled the bandages from the boy's side, revealing a bloody mess that surprised Peter, but not Strange.

"You've managed to tear a couple of stitches," he said, a warm, wet towel appearing in his hand so he could wipe the blood clear and get a better look. "It's expected, and nothing serious."

"It barely hurts," Peter told him, honestly.

"It'd hurt a lot more if you didn't heal so quickly," Strange assured him.

He put a fresh dressing on the boy's side and taped it down thoroughly. Then he checked the gashes on Peter's leg and repeated the process, although there weren't any torn stitches there and it didn't take long to redress the wounds.

"I don't want you out in the rain again for a while, all right? Give yourself a chance to stay dry and warm up."

"Okay."

Peter put on clean – and more importantly, _dry_ – clothes, another sweatshirt with a hood and was grateful when Strange produced a dry pair of shoes for him to put on. Then the two of them went to join Stark and Natasha for breakfast.

"How's he doing?" Tony asked when they came into the shelter.

"He's fine," Strange told him – _and_ Natasha. "More than healthy enough to do the breakfast dishes."

Peter frowned, which made the other two smile.

"Good."

Tony didn't want to do them, anyway.


	15. Chapter 15

After breakfast Peter started in on the dishes and grinned when the three adults all decided that they were going to test Stark's theory that the rain made Peter's fishing so successful, or if it were Stephen's theory that it was the time of day that had the fish so willing to bite. Stark had shown them the photos he'd taken of the fish that Peter had caught, and the boy had to admit they'd been pretty good looking fish – although he did wonder if maybe he'd caught the same one a couple of times. They looked enough alike in the pictures. He was looking forward to showing May the pictures and was glad Mr. Stark had taken them – even if he hadn't known that he was doing it at the time.

"You _sure_ you don't mind us leaving you here?" Tony asked the boy. "I could hang out with _you_ instead of them."

"I'm not far away," he pointed out. "It'll be fun to watch you guys – and still be dry."

"Do you need anything?" Natasha asked.

"No. I'll just finish these and sit in a chair or something and relax. A _blanket_ , maybe?"

"Stephen?"

A neatly folded blanket appeared in the chair that Peter had used during breakfast.

"No magic while we're fishing," Tony said.

"Did _you_ want to slog through the rain to get him a blanket?" Strange asked.

"No. I said while we're _fishing_ ," Tony pointed out. "Pay attention, Stephen."

Strange rolled his eyes and winked at Peter, since he knew Stark wouldn't be able to see it.

"Have fun," Peter told them.

"You, too, Cinderella," Natasha said, putting up her hood and heading out of the shelter with the others, fishing pole in hand.

Peter smiled at that, amused, and watched them while he finished washing the dishes and left them in the rack to dry, already subscribing Mr. Stark's theory about not drying the dishes since nature would do it for him. Even on a rainy day. Then, with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, warm and dry, he sat near the edge of the shelter with his camera in hand and watched to see who would catch the first fish.

OOOOOOOOO

"Fishing sucks," Natasha said an hour later.

'You're only saying that because you haven't caught a fish, yet," Tony pointed out.

"No. I'm saying that because I'm soaked to the skin, my hair is ruined _and_ I haven't caught a fish, yet."

Especially since the other two had both had plenty of luck, and had each caught a few nice looking fish. All of which were still somewhere swimming in the lake, having been released back into the water once taken off the hook and photographed with the man who had caught it.

"Wait until _you_ catch one, Natasha," Strange said. "Then you'll-"

Her bobber suddenly vanished and the tip of her fishing pole bent until it was almost folded in half and she squealed in excitement.

"Reel it in!" Tony told her, harsh with excitement for her. None of their poles had reacted so strongly, so he had to assume she had a big one on the line. "Carefully, though. Don't let it get away."

"I am," she told him, reeling her line in, feeling the wriggling on the other end that was proof she definitely had a fish on the other end.

The line jerked and ran back and forth as Romanoff reeled in the fish, and at the last moment, worried that it would get away like Peter's half fish had, she gave a mighty jerk and the fish flew out of the water, almost hitting Strange, who was standing close by.

Stark snapped a picture.

"Nice fish," Stephen said, reaching down and picking it up. It was easily bigger than any of theirs had been – although it was hard to tell if any of Peter's had been larger, since they only had the pictures. "How do you like fishing, _now_?"

She smiled and took the fish off the hook with only a little difficulty, and then turned toward the shelter wondering if Peter had seen her triumph. The boy was standing just at the edge of the shelter, waving his hand, obviously excited for her. She held up the fish so he could see it, and to pose with it for another picture that Stark was taking, before putting it back into the water and letting it go.

"You didn't _magic_ her up a fish, did you?" Stark asked Strange, softly, as Natasha walked over to where they'd left their tackle box so that she could get more bait to recast her line.

Stephen shook his head, amused.

"Magic can do _many_ things, Tony," he said. "Convincing a fish that some goo at the end of a hook is irresistible is not one of them."

Stark shrugged his acceptance of that. The timing had been pretty good, though, so he had to ask. He looked up at the sky, realizing that the rain was finally ebbing off a bit and the gloomy sky was starting to brighten a little.

Strange noticed the look, and shook his head, again.

"I didn't have anything to do with _that_ , either."

Tony smiled, and started reeling in his line. Natasha returned just as he was hooking his hook into the reel.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go dry off and see what Peter is doing."

"Show him the picture of my fish."

"He watched you reel it in."

"I hope he saw how you almost ripped its lips off with that last tug," Stephen added.

"I didn't want it to get away."

Stark shook his head and took his pole back to the truck, and went into the shelter. Peter had seen him coming and had thoughtfully poured him a cup of coffee.

"Thank you." Stark took an appreciative sip and the set the cup on the table. "I'm going to go dry of and change. Do you need anything from the tent?"

"No. Thanks."

OOOOOOOOO

By the time Strange and Natasha finally called it quits for the day, the sun was trying to come out, the clouds were moving on and Natasha had caught two more fish. They put up the gear and went into the shelter, both soaked to the skin, but looking as though they'd had a good time. They found Peter and Tony playing chess.

"Are you having fun?" Natasha asked, coming over to stand behind Peter, who smiled a greeting to her as she did.

She put her hand on his forehead and pulled him back against her sodden sweatshirt, at the same time leaning over and putting her cheek against his own – which caused her wet hair to cascade down over his face, getting him wet. She pressed a noisy kiss against his temple and then his cheek before moving away, leaving damp splotches on his sweatshirt, face and hair.

Tony held up a hand and turned to Strange, who was standing somewhat behind him.

"If _you_ do that to _me_ I swear I will toss you into the lake."

Stephen smirked.

"How do you think _that_ would turn out?"

"With you wet and me standing behind Romanoff."

Peter wasn't the only one to smile at that – and recognize that there might be a little truth in it.

"I'm going to go change," Natasha told them. "I'll be back in a minute."

"We'll start lunch," Tony said. "Don't be long."


	16. Chapter 16

Lunch wasn't very sophisticated, but since it had been a chilly morning for everyone involved they decided that soup would be a good addition to the sandwiches that had been planned – just to provide some warmth to the meal. Peter helped Tony put it all together, and the two simply enjoyed the company the other was providing while Natasha set the table for them and they waited for Strange to go change and dry off.

"I was hoping that I'd actually get to see some _wildlife_ ," Natasha mentioned as they finished their lunch. "So far all I've seen are fish."

The camping trip was almost over, after all, and she _knew_ there were creatures out here – she'd seen their pictures.

"I could take you to the clearing where I saw the deer after we eat, if you want," Peter offered. "I don't know if they will be there, but it's worth a shot."

"Perfect. We might even see other things on the way." Natasha looked at Strange and Stark. "Interested?"

"I was thinking of taking it easy," Tony told her. He'd been up late the night before, and up early. A nap now that the sun was out and it was warming up appealed to him.

Strange shook his head as well, although he looked tempted.

"I probably shouldn't risk that much activity with my ankle, yet. I'll stay back and keep Tony company."

She nodded. He was a doctor; he probably knew best, after all.

"Then you guys can do the dishes so we can leave after we're done eating…"

Strange nodded.

"I don't see why not."

Peter had done his share of dishes already, and it wasn't like there were that many from lunch.

"How far away is this clearing?" Tony asked Peter.

"No idea," he admitted. He hadn't actually measured his walk time, after all. "Not _too_ far."

"Okay. You guys be careful."

Natasha doubted that there was much out in the trees that they couldn't handle. Especially since the bear was gone, now.

"I'll take care of him, Tony."

"And who will take care of _you_?" Stark asked, tilting his head, curiously, a bit of a challenge warring with amusement in his expression.

"I will," Peter told him with all the confidence that came with being a teenager who had already been out in the woods twice by himself.

"Fair enough. Just be careful."

He wasn't too worried. Even if they found a moose or something that wanted a piece of them, they both had watches to call for help, and the forest wasn't so big that Ironman couldn't be there in a minute.

The two finished eating and then headed into the woods, Natasha's hand resting fondly on Peter's shoulder.

"Why don't you go Ironman, do a quick scan and make sure there are no surprises out there waiting for them?" Strange said, watching them go.

"Are you _worried_ about them?"

Strange shrugged.

"Let's just say the whole bear thing has made me a little more aware of what can be out in the trees."

"Fair enough. But if I do, then you have to wash dishes."

"Fine."

Ha.

Tony activated his suit and had Friday scan the same area that they'd scanned the day before.

"Lots of little things and some deer," Stark reported after a long moment of filtering the data coming at him, his voice muffled like it normally was when he was wearing the suit. "A _lot_ of deer. Hopefully they see some of them."

"No bears?"

"No. There's a coyote that I saw the other day, and a few foxes that I didn't. Nothing else that I'd consider dangerous," Stark assured him, disengaging the suit. "It was a good idea, though."

Tony was all for anything that kept the others safe, after all.

"Good."

OOOOOOOOOO

They walked for about half an hour before Peter thought that he was sure he was getting close to the area he'd seen the deer in. The same place that he'd seen the poachers, too, but when he'd reminded Natasha of that she pointed out that the rain would most likely have kept anyone inside. Not to mention that Romanoff had no concerns about dealing with a couple of people with bows – even if they were foolish enough to pose any kind of threat to Peter – or to her.

While Clint Barton was extremely adept with the weapon, Natasha knew that in the hands of an average person it wasn't anywhere close to being as deadly as the throwing knives she generally carried as a habit, or – for that matter – as deadly as _she_ was.

Suddenly Peter grabbed her arm, stopping her and dragging her to the ground. As always, Romanoff was surprised by just how strong the boy was. He didn't even realize it; he just _was_. She'd gone down without resistance, because it was _him_ , but even if she _had_ struggled, she knew she still would have been dragged to the ground. He could have picked a spot that wasn't quite so _muddy_ , because she'd slipped and now both of _them_ were pretty muddy as well, but places like that were probably few and far between just then.

She looked over at him and he pointed, excitedly. Following his gaze she saw that they'd found a clearing, and a large group of deer. They were darker than the pictures she'd seen but she decided that that could be because of the rain which had probably soaked their hides. There were ten of them, including the buck that Peter had shown her, the one with the amazing set of antlers. All of them were grazing on the far side of the clearing, and none of them seemed too concerned that they were there.

Fascinated, she crouched by the boy and watched them for a long time, amazed at how graceful they were and how dainty they appeared – although she remembered reading somewhere that people had actually been attacked by deer and seriously injured. Maybe from the buck – those antlers were pointed and probably could do some serious damage – but she didn't see how one of the does could hurt someone.

But she didn't care to find out, either, so they kept their distance and simply watched. The deer didn't stand still while they grazed. They wandered from spot to spot, searching out the best grass, presumably, and as Peter and Natasha watched, the deer came closer and closer – until a few were within only twenty feet or so. Which was amazing to Romanoff.

Peter had his camera out and was taking pictures when he suddenly stilled, looking around, suddenly wary. Natasha noticed the change in the boy immediately, of course, and looked at him.

"What is it?"

She was well aware that those senses he had could tip him off to dangers that she didn't catch quite as quickly – although her own senses were well honed.

"I don't know," he whispered. "Something is happening…"

"Here?"

"Yeah. We should go."

She hesitated, preferring to stay still until she knew where the problem was so they didn't end up going towards it instead of away from it.

"What do you feel? _Danger_?"

"No… something _bad_ , though. I can't really explain it. We need to get out of here…"

"Is it the _deer_?"

Maybe one was going to attack them, after all?

"It is... and it isn't…"

Whatever _that_ was supposed to mean.

Peter looked to his left and she followed suit, both watching as a motion in the undergrowth near them caught their eye. Suddenly a small black creature appeared, moving their direction but not threatening them at all as far as Natasha could see. She didn't realize it was a skunk until it turned a little and she saw the white stripe on its back, and then _she_ froze.

"If we don't move it won't do anything," Natasha told Peter.

"We need to go," he said. "Something-"

"Is it the skunk?"

"No. I saw one the other day – they don't even _smell_ , you know? Not like everyone says they do. But-"

Abruptly, one of the deer snorted, catching sight of their movement – or the skunk, or maybe they had senses of their own that told them something was different. Every head popped up and they were staring their way. The skunk froze, too, turning slightly away from them – which made Peter and Natasha look that way, also, thinking that something was coming that the deer and the skunk could see or smell.

That inexperience was their undoing.

There was a flash of a brownish red hide – nothing big, maybe the size of a smallish dog – and that startled the already tense deer. They broke and ran, startling Peter, who was already hair triggered because of those senses of his, and Natasha, who was trying to decide if whatever the dog looking thing had been was a threat.

 _That_ startled the skunk, and it reacted predictably.


	17. Chapter 17

A nap had been a good idea. They'd taken down the rain shelter now that the sun was out and the day was warm, and then Strange and Stark had both settled into chairs with their feet propped up on the fire pit. The Cloak of Levitation had finally made an appearance as well, since the rain was done, and it was draped over Strange's shoulder. Stark had the same blanket that Peter had used earlier but he really didn't need it and both men had allowed the warm sun and the peacefulness of the area to lull them to sleep.

Strange woke first. Mainly because the cloak suddenly took off, the loss of the weight on his shoulder not enough to really disturb his sleep, but the fact that a corner of fabric slapped his cheek in its haste to go was more than enough. He opened his eyes, and turned the direction it had launched itself, and frowned.

The doctor's motion were enough to wake Tony, who really wasn't doing more than lightly dozing. He, too, opened his eyes. He looked at Strange, and then turned to look the direction that Stephen was looking.

"What's up?"

"They must be coming back," Strange said, shrugging. "Peter's the only one it really gets that excited about."

"Good. I hope they saw something interesting."

It'd be too bad if they left before Natasha had a chance to experience nature, after all. He yawned and debated continuing his nap, but Strange sat up, suddenly alert.

"Oh, my Lord."

Stark opened his eyes again and looked over, then stood up, suddenly worried. Peter and Natasha were coming out of the woods, and obviously something had happened. They were both muddy – Peter more than Natasha – and even more seriously, he was carrying her in his arms. Natasha had a few scratches on her cheek and was holding her wrist as if it ached. The cloak was hovering, but surprisingly, considering how much it liked both Peter and Natasha, it wasn't touching either of them as if uncertain it would hurt them if it did.

Both men started toward the two, but then the wind shifted and the odor that hit them almost leveled both of them.

"What the hell is _that_?" Strange asked, covering his mouth and nose instinctively.

Stark had reacted similarly, and they walked over to Peter, following him as he carried Natasha to the picnic table and set her down – not on one of the benches, but on the table itself.

"What happened?" Strange asked, his eyes watering at the odor that _had_ to be coming from them.

"We found the deer," Natasha told him, reaching down and holding her left knee, wincing.

"Did they _crap_ on you?" Tony asked. He and Stephen were trying very hard to ignore the smell coming from the two of them, but it was impossible, really.

"This is _mud_ ," Peter assured them, sitting down on the table beside Natasha and taking her hand, obviously trying to support her. "There was a skunk, and I don't know what _happened_ , but one minute everything was okay and the next it was all really, _really_ wrong."

"I slipped when we were trying to get away," Natasha told Strange, wincing again when she rolled up the leg of her jeans, looking for swelling and checking her range of motion. Stephen took her knee in gentle hands, feeling around the bone and watching her reaction all the while trying not to breathe.

"It _chased_ you?" Stark asked, his own eyes watering, too. It was really hard to breathe.

"It _sprayed_ us," Peter said, looking down at himself. "Right out of its…" he trailed off, looking at Natasha, who was pale from pain and looked miserable.

 _He_ felt miserable, too, and the smell hadn't faded at all the entire time they'd been walking back to the campsite.

Tony activated his suit.

"Friday, what do we do about the skunk smell?"

He found it was a lot easier to breathe with the mask on, and managed to take a couple of deep breaths while the AI accessed the information needed to deal with the problem.

" _The odor is caused by thiols – Sulphur compounds – that are mixed in with an oil that skunks spray from their anal scent glands, which will stick to everything. Clothing, skin, and hair and can seriously injure or irritate if it gets into the eyes."_

"How do we get rid of it?"

" _Discard all clothing that has come in contact with the oils and wash all skin and hair subjected to them with a special solution. There are several commercial products that have proven effective to cut through the oil."_

"Is it dangerous?"

" _No. Just highly offensive. And it will spread to other surfaces so I would advise against touching them – or their clothes if you can"_

Stark disengaged the suit and passed the information on to the others, including the commercial products that Friday had mentioned.

"We better get you two back to the compound."

"I'm not going back looking – or _smelling_ – like this," Romanoff told him.

"What?"

"If all we need is a change of clothes and a shower, we can do that here, right?"

"It's not that simple, Natasha," Stephen protested. "Your knee-"

"Isn't broken. I managed to walk on it – it was just faster to have Peter carry me."

And a lot less painful.

"But."

"I _mean_ it. You can take Peter – he shouldn't have to stay just because my pride won't allow Steve and Clint a chance to have fun at my expense – but I'm not going."

"I can stay, too," Peter said, not letting go of Natasha's hand. "I'm not injured."

Just smelly and muddy.

Strange looked at Tony, who shrugged. If it were a life-threatening issue, he wouldn't hesitate to override Romanoff on something that was just pride. Since it wasn't, he was diffident about going against her wishes – well aware that she could hold a grudge forever, and make his life hell.

"I can rig up a shower," Strange said. "That won't be a problem. Clean clothes – again, not an issue – but I can't bring any of that commercial solution if I don't know what it is. It'd probably be easier for me to make my own if you get your AI to tell you what's in it and what the ratios are."

"I'll work on it," Tony said. "At the other table. You get the shower ready and I'll have your ingredients list by the time they're ready to get cleaned up."

Strange agreed, and Stark went to the table that had been in the rain shelter, but was now simply near the fire pit and Stephen looked at Natasha, his expression concerned.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

"Alright. I'll set up a camp-type shower for you two – except we'll make sure the water supply is continuous and as warm as you can handle so we won't need to use buckets. Get out of the top layer of clothing and don't touch anything you don't need to touch."

"Okay."

Two blankets appeared on the table between Peter and Natasha, and both of them stripped down to their underwear, tossing their soiled and incredibly smelly clothes in a pile near the truck, Peter blushing furiously, even though he kept telling himself that she'd seen him in swim trunks and boxers were no different, really.

Then they huddled under blankets while they waited for everything to be set up. The cloak was told in no uncertain terms to stay as far away as possible unless it wanted to be washed as thoroughly as Peter and Natasha were going to be, so the relic was actually hanging out with Stark, who was writing ingredients down as he got the recipe for the solution from Friday.

"How's your knee?" Peter asked.

"It's fine," she told him. "I should have listened when you said we needed to go. I'm sorry."

He shrugged.

"It's not really an exact science," he said. "I didn't know why we needed to leave – or where we should have gone, so we might have made it even worse if we'd left. Stepped on it or something."

Natasha smiled; touched by his ready willingness to try and make her feel better about the whole situation.

"I'll need one last favor from you, though," she said, hesitating, rubbing her wrist and realizing that she was going to need a little more assistance.

"Anything," Peter told her.

She smiled.

"Better hear what it is, first."

OOOOOOOO

Thanks to prodigious use of magic, the shower that Strange rigged up was as good as anything that would have been found at the Avenger facility. The only real difference was that the walls were a dark blue to afford a little privacy and it was bigger than usual. The skunk oil solution he made from Tony's recipe was in a large bucket and there were several scrubbers, wash cloths and sponges to use.

It was a brilliant red Peter Parker that helped Natasha wash her hair with the solution since she couldn't do it by herself. Strange had been concerned that her injured knee might precipitate a fall in the shower, and while he was willing to help her himself, she'd pointed out that there was no sense in him exposing himself to the awful smell when Peter was already skunky and had already agreed to help out.

She wasn't _naked_ – and he'd seen her in the pool the same as he'd convinced himself that she'd seen him in trunks – but he averted his eyes the entire time, and had only washed the parts of her that she absolutely needed help with – which was really just her hair. Natasha had been amused, reminding him that next time he should ask what the favor was, first, but well aware that he would still have said yes, even if he'd known.

When she was as cleaned and odor free as one thirty minute shower with constant scrubbing could make her, Peter steadied her as far as the shower door, where Strange was waiting. He didn't bother with a towel to dry her, he just made a very slight gesture and she was dried and dressed in sweats and a sweatshirt. Then he swung her into his arms and carried her to a chair by the fire so he could safely check her knee and wrist and generally fuss over her now that it was safe to touch her.

"You okay?" Tony asked Peter, now that Romanoff had been taken care of.

"Yeah."

He had to work around the bandages, but luckily the skunk oil hadn't permeated through all the layers he'd been wearing, so his skin didn't need to be scrubbed in either area that the bear had injured. All he really had to worry about was face, hands and hair – same as Natasha. He washed his hair several times, and his hands and face, took the towel Stark handed him and wrapped it around his waist and walked barefoot over to the fire.

By then, Romanoff was bundled in another blanket, her knee had a brace on it under the sweats she was wearing and there was an ace bandage on her wrist. Several icepacks had been packed around her knee for the moment and it was elevated to help the swelling. She had a cup of coffee in her hand and seemed to be much better than she had been.

She smiled when Peter walked over and stood by the fire, towel held around his skinny frame with one hand and the other pressed lightly against the four rows of stitches in his side. Stark was hovering close at hand, constantly checking both of them for any sign of discomfort.

"You still _smell_ , you know?" she said, when Stephen walked over with a new bandage for the boy's side.

"But not as bad."

"Do we go home, now?" Stark asked, watching as Strange put new bandages on Peter's wounds and then with an unneeded gesture had him dressed in sweats and a sweatshirt, too.

"We're leaving tomorrow anyway," Natasha reminded him. "If we go tonight we'd still have to come back for all the gear – and both cars. I can tough it out until tomorrow."

"Peter?"

"Yeah. I'm okay."

It would give him another day to try to lose the remaining skunk smell before he had to face May.


	18. Chapter 18

Dinner that night was a hodgepodge of everything that they had left in the coolers – aside from what they had planned for breakfast the next morning. Strange and Stark had chilidogs with chips and macaroni salad, Natasha and Peter had potato salad and sandwiches with the last of the lunch meat, cheese and bread. They'd have breakfast at the campsite, but were planning on leaving sometime in the early afternoon so Stark had planned it out that they would just stop at a restaurant someplace and eat a hot meal that they didn't have to cook on their way home.

Natasha had been bundled up in a chair by the fire, with her leg up on a stool and the cloak of levitation spread over her blanket, crooning cheerfully, even though Peter was the only one who felt it. Peter was in a chair as well, but he wasn't feeling any ill-effects from their afternoon walk – he still smelled the residual of the skunk and knew it was going to take more than one shower out in the woods to get all of it off their hides, and out of their minds – but he hadn't been injured.

He had planned on eating the last of the chocolate bars and graham crackers as odd little sandwiches – he had finally run out of _marshmallows_ – but Strange had 'found' him a bag, and the three adults watched with what could only be baffled fascination as the boy once more stuffed himself on charred marshmallows.

"You're going to make yourself _sick_ ," Tony warned him as the boy reached into the bag for a couple more marshmallows and put them on his skewer.

Peter shook his head.

"Not with a few marshmallows."

"I counted _twelve_ ," Stephen said from the other side of the fire, where he was sipping coffee.

"You missed a couple, then," Natasha told him. "My count is 15."

"We don't want them to go to waste, right?" Peter pointed out, watching as the marshmallows on the skewer caught on fire and waiting for the right moment to blow them out so he could eat them without burning his mouth.

He'd already run out of chocolate and graham crackers.

"Keep telling yourself that when you're awake at three in the morning because the sugar rush hasn't subsided," Tony told him.

Of course, he wouldn't be surprised if the boy was awake, anyway. He'd had nightmares about the bear attack and while nowhere near as dangerous, the skunk thing could trigger bad dreams as well, and Stark knew it. Add all the other minor calamities that had happened on what was supposed to be a simple camping trip to spend some time together out in the wilderness and he'd be surprised if Peter ever wanted to try camping again, really.

"He'll be fine, Tony," Natasha said, smiling at the boy in the light of the fire. "He can always sleep in tomorrow if he wants to."

It wasn't as if they had any kind of schedule for the next day, after all.

None of them were really in a hurry to go to bed just yet. The rain had washed through and left the lakeside smelling fresh and clean and the sky was absolutely cloudless, now. The water in front of them reflected a million stars and a moon that was bright and almost completely full. It was about as picturesque as anyone could ask for. Certainly all that the four of them would want.

Once the coffee was gone, though, and the fire started to die down, Natasha finally yawned.

"I'm going to bed.

Not surprisingly, since she was the one who ached the most, despite the ibuprofen she'd taken for her knee. She'd feel better when she could stretch out a little more readily than the chair allowed.

"I'll help you," Strange told her, setting his empty coffee cup aside and standing up. "I'm ready to head that way, too."

He didn't really _help_ her as much as he just went over and picked her up, blankets, cloak and all, and carried her to the tent.

"I think he's trying to show you up, Peter," Stark told the boy as they watched them vanish into the tent and saw a light appear as one of the lanterns was switched on.

"Oh?"

"You carried her out of the woods for what, half an hour, forty-five minutes?"

"Yeah, something like that."

He hadn't really been keeping track.

"So he can't be shown up, you know? He'll probably carry her to _breakfast_ , too."

Peter smiled; he was always amused when the two men said something like that about the other. Peter wasn't fooled at all. He knew they really liked each other, but there was definitely a rivalry between them. Which he supposed was only natural since they were so similar.

"He didn't _need_ to carry her at all," the boy pointed out. "She had the cloak with her. It probably would have carried her if she'd asked."

"Think so?"

"It _likes_ her."

"I like her, too," Stark said. "Not like _tab A into slot A_ or anything…"

He trailed off, smiling, and Peter rolled his eyes with a grin, knowing he was never going to live that down.

"It's slot _B_ ," the boy corrected him. "If you want, I'll have May give you the talk so you can get it right."

"I probably _need_ it," Tony conceded. He reached over and rested a hand affectionately against the boy's cheek, a habit he'd gotten into when he'd been so sick and not one that Peter seemed to mind so he wasn't in any hurry to break himself of it. It was another one of those things that he could get away with _now_ that the boy wouldn't want anything to do with once he was older. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. It wasn't _that_ many marshmallows."

Now it was Stark's turn to roll his eyes, knowing that Peter was messing with him by purposely misunderstanding the question. He slapped his shoulder.

"Smart ass."

"I'm okay. Stitches are a little itchy, really, and head doesn't hurt at all. How bad do I _smell_?"

He couldn't tell for himself, since the skunk smell had just turned into one long, awful odor in his mind.

"Nothing like you did before. At least not so bad that we're going to have to banish you to sleeping in the bed of the truck or something."

Peter was well aware that they would never have done that. The _cab_ of the truck, maybe, or the car, even, but not out in the open. Probably, though, after the events of the trip, Mr. Stark would think twice about bringing him out in the wilderness ever again. It hadn't been the best way to showcase his outdoors skills, after all, even though he knew deep down that none of it had really been his fault. Just some bad luck.

Tony was well able to see the boy's expression, even in the light of the dying fire and the moon, but he didn't understand why it went from cheerful to melancholy so quickly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Stark frowned.

"Peter…"

"I just…" the boy shrugged, looking away from Tony and down at the fire. "I had a _really_ _good_ time. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused, but I still had fun. I just wanted you to know that. But I'll understand if you don't want to do it again."

It wasn't what he'd expected to hear, and Tony shook his head.

"For such a bright kid, you can be really dumb sometimes," Stark told him.

"What?"

"The whole point of this trip was to spend time with you," Tony confessed. "And I did. I _am_. Would it have been better without the bear and the skunk? Yeah, probably. But it wouldn't have been better without _you_. Ever. So don't think you're going to get out of another camping trip, okay? You're _not_. Next time, we'll have a little more experience under our belts, is all."

Peter smiled, feeling warm and wanted.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." He stood up. "Let's go to _bed_ , okay? I get the feeling that somewhere out there a moose is just waiting for me to leave you sitting alone by the campfire."

The boy laughed and got up, too.

"Fair enough."


	19. Chapter 19

It was sunny and bright when Natasha came out of the tent the next morning. She stopped at the entrance, watching the activity around her as she leaned on the pole that was responsible for holding the front of the tent upright. Despite the sun there was just a touch of chill still in the air, and she was glad that she had a sweatshirt on.

Peter was at the fire, crouched down and obviously tending the skillet that breakfast was cooking in. Natasha had discovered early on when she'd joined the guys that when it came to cooking, camping didn't really afford a lot of opportunity for creativity. Breakfast was going to be scrambled eggs and sausages – all in the same pan and most likely scrambled all together since Peter's culinary skills were fairly limited.

Stephen and Tony were loading the truck bed with the now empty coolers and the boxes of canned food that hadn't been used. The shower had vanished in the dark of the night and was completely gone, unlike the rain shelter which was packed up and stored in the truck to be used again the next time there was a camping trip. All the firewood that hadn't been needed was also being loaded. They'd let the fire burn down once breakfast was ready and wouldn't need to reignite it.

By the time they were done, all that would be left to load were the personal items in the tent, the sleeping bags, pillows, the chairs and cooking gear.

She knew that they would have already had all of the items in the tent packed up if not for the fact that she had allowed herself to sleep in a bit. Not that she'd slept poorly the night before, because no one had kept her awake. Stephen had helped her into her sleeping bag when they'd gone to bed and she'd woken slightly when Peter had settled in beside her, just long enough to brush her hand against his cheek before dozing off once more.

Stark and Strange both saw Natasha at the opening to the tent and walked over.

"Need a lift?" Tony asked, taking one side and offering her a shoulder, while Strange did the same on the other side.

She took them up on the offer, putting a hand on their shoulders and let them support her to the chairs, although her knee felt better that morning and she probably didn't _really_ need the help. Better safe than sorry, though. They settled her in the same chair the cloak was draped over, obviously avoiding the smoke from the fire which was inundating Peter. The boy smiled up at her from where he was stirring the scrambled eggs while Stark poured her a cup of coffee.

"How's the knee?" Peter asked.

"Not too bad. How did you sleep?"

"Great."

Of course, he'd been right up against Natasha while he'd slept, and even Stark had stayed close – despite the lingering skunk odor that pretty much permeated the tent. How could he have slept any way _but_ great?

"How long until breakfast, Peter?" Strange asked, a hand resting on Natasha's shoulder.

"Pretty soon. The eggs aren't quite done."

"We're going to pack up the tent, then. Do you need anything out of it?"

"No."

"Natasha?"

She shook her head.

"Thank you, no."

The two men left them alone, and headed to the tent, pulling all the sleeping items out, first and rolling the sleeping bags and folding all the blankets. These went into the trunk of the car where they'd be safe, and then were followed by the bags.

"Do Avengers do a debriefing on a _camping trip_?" Peter asked her, looking up from the fire.

She smiled.

"We'll have to ask Tony. I'm not sure what the protocol is on that. I hope not. We probably failed with the whole skunk thing."

Peter had to agree.

When their breakfast was done, he carried the skillet to the picnic table where their plates were set up, along with the coffee pot. Then he assisted Natasha to the table while Strange and Stark finished taking down the tent before they came over and settled in to eat their last meal at the campsite.

"I was thinking I'd take walk out in the woods when we're done eating," Tony said, sipping his coffee. "I haven't really taken much of a look around and I'd like to be able to say that I did when Pepper asks. You guys interested?"

" _I'm_ not going anywhere but back to the fire," Natasha said, not surprisingly. Her knee was better, but there was no reason to tempt fate.

"I'll go," Peter told him, more than willing to spend a little more time with him.

"Stephen?"

Strange shook his head.

"I'll take care of the dishes, and then keep Natasha company."

When they were finished, then, Stark and Peter headed off into the woods, cameras at the ready, leaving Natasha and Strange sitting at the picnic table, with the cloak in its normal place on Strange's collar. It had apparently seen just how messy Peter had been when he'd returned from the woods the last time and was not going to risk the need for a last minute cleaning.

Strange waved his hand slightly and all the dirty dishes were suddenly cleaned and neatly stacked. Including the skillet, which had promised to be a beast to clean.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at that, giving the doctor a look.

"What?" he asked, giving her an innocent look. "I said I'd take care of them. I didn't say I'd _wash_ them."

She shook her head, amused, and as always impressed by his casual use of magic.

"I'm going to go sit in a chair and soak up some last minute mother nature."

"Let me give you a hand."

He didn't carry her, but he did give her his shoulder to lean on, and an arm around her waist to steady her until she was ensconced in one of the chairs. It was warm enough by then that she didn't need a blanket. Strange kissed her lightly, then carried a chair over next to hers and sat with her, staring out over the lake and thinking that camping wasn't so bad, after all.

But it was probably the _company_ , most likely.

OOOOOOOOO

"You think those deer will be at that clearing?"

Peter shrugged, uncertainly.

"We can look if you'd like."

"Think the _skunk_ will be?"

"I hope not."

Stark chuckled and shook Peter's shoulder, pleased to have him to himself.

"Best part of the trip?"

"Spending time with you."

"Good answer."

"How about you?"

"Ditto. No contest."

Which made the boy smile.

"Fishing was fun, too."

"Yeah. Even in the rain."

They walked in companionable silence for a while, every now and then stopping to take a picture of something that they thought Pepper or May might be interested in seeing, and occasionally seeing something more interesting than a squirrel. Luckily, none of it was poison ivy.

Peter was starting to become pretty familiar with the area, and had no trouble leading Stark to the meadow clearing that he'd seen the herd of deer in, but right as they reached it, he hesitated.

"What?" Tony asked, well aware that Peter would see something before he would most of the time. Or at least feel something coming.

"I don't know," Peter said, looking around and trusting his senses to point him in the right direction, at least.

"The deer?"

The boy shook his head, camera in hand. He turned just as something rustled in the brush and two men in camouflage broke cover right in front of them. And froze, just as surprised to see Tony and Peter as they were to see them.

Both were holding bows in their hands.


	20. Chapter 20

Tony took an almost imperceptible step forward, his hand coming up automatically to Peter's chest and moving the boy half a step back, putting himself between the men and the boy. By then, all parties involved were over their surprise at the sudden encounter.

"Jesus, you _scared_ us," one of the men said, giving Stark a smile that was obviously supposed to be sincere, and yet failed.

"Sorry," Tony replied. "We were just out for a walk."

The men were sizing him up, while Tony was doing the same to them, not willing to make a move until he was certain that they were only what they appeared to be.

They were both fairly large men. One sported a full beard, the other clean shaven. Both taller than he was, and clearly comfortable in the woods. The bearded one held his bow in his left hand, and wore a buck knife in a sheath on his belt. He had binoculars hung around his neck and a handgun in a holster on the other side. Against his hip was also a quiver of arrows.

The clean shaven man was a hair taller than his companion and dressed almost identically, although he held his bow in his right hand, which led Tony to believe that he was probably left handed.

"You and your son camping around here?" the clean shaven one asked.

Stark nodded before Peter could say anything.

"Yeah. With a couple of friends. We're leaving today."

"It's a good place for camping," the man said, seemingly pleased with the answer. "Peaceful like."

"For the most part," Tony agreed.

"Did you have a good time?"

This was directed at Peter, who looked at Stark and then nodded.

"Um, yeah."

"Lots to see out here," Beard said.

"Yeah." Peter's gaze went to the guns, and the bows – although he hadn't missed them from the moment they'd come out of the brush. "I thought hunting was off limits here…"

Stark gave a silent sigh, thinking that he was going to have to explain subtlety to the boy someday, but the men both smiled, their eyes following Peter's look.

"These are for _self-defense_ ," the clean shaven one said, holding up the bow in his hand. "There are some dangerous animals out here."

"Yes," Tony said, blandly. "We know."

The men both gave him a look, as if uncertain they were talking about the same thing.

"We work for the fish and wildlife department," Beard said. "We're out doing a survey of the deer herds around here. You know, to get an idea of where they are and how many there are in each."

"My _son_ here saw a herd the other day," Tony told them. "He said there were several of them."

The men smiled.

"Good. We'll go looking for them."

"Then he was attacked by a _bear_ with an arrow stuck in its side."

The smiles faded immediately. Both men tensed.

"Did you report it to the fish and game?" Beard asked, licking his lips as if they'd gone suddenly dry.

"Of course we did. Even gave them the arrow."

"You should be more careful, son," the clean shaven one said, looking at Peter, although his hand had suddenly come to rest on the butt of the holster on his belt. It was probably not intentional, but then again, it might have been. "People can get _hurt_ out here…"

Tony scowled, feeling a surge of fury that he couldn't hide.

"Did you _seriously_ just say that?"

As if he suddenly sensed that they were at a disadvantage – even though Stark was unarmed as near as they could tell and Peter was obviously too young to be considered a threat – the man held up a hand with another falsely sincere smile.

"I was just pointing out that these woods can be a dangerous place…"

"Is _that_ what you were saying?" Stark asked, still angry. "Because it really sounded to me like you were _threatening_ him."

"Not at all. Just a harmless warning for you both," Beard assured him.

"You know what I _think_?" Tony said. "I think your fish and wildlife buddies would probably like to discuss those bows with you."

"I think you should mind your own business, mister," the one with no beard said. "You can get into a lot of trouble, messing with federal agents."

"Is that what you are?"

"Yeah."

Tony activated his suit, his right hand taking hold of Peter's shirt and pulling him completely behind him, now, putting a layer of metal between the boy and the men, and his left coming up to point at the clean shaven man – even though they were close enough that he wouldn't have been able to miss both in one shot. Not with the weapon he was aiming at them.

Both men stared, shocked, and one bow dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers.

OOOOOOOOO

"So then I said, 'Dormammu, I've come to bargain', and _he_ -"

Strange frowned when he heard the chime on his watch go off, and he looked down at it, surprised. Really, the only people who ever used the communications feature on his watch with him were already _with_ him; Natasha, rarely, Tony, occasionally, and Peter, a bit more often than Tony. And usually then it was just to remind him he was coming over to the sanctum after school.

Natasha was watching him and he pressed the button.

"Peter?"

" _Yeah."_

"What's wrong?"

Obviously something had to be wrong. Natasha was alert, now, and listening as well.

" _We ran into a pest problem_ ," came the reply – only now it was from _Stark_ , which made Stephen feel a little surge of relief. He'd been worried something must have happened to Tony, and that that was why Peter was getting a hold of him. " _Use the GPS on your watch and come to my location, will you?"_

"Of course."

He stood up, and so did Romanoff. A moment later, he triggered the spell he and Stark had integrated with the GPS in their communications devices and opened a portal. Neither of them were surprised that its terminus was the woods.

He went through first, the cloak now on his collar in its regular position, followed by Romanoff, who limped slightly. They found themselves in the woods, near Stark, who was in the Ironman suit – except for the helmet, now. He was standing with Peter just a step behind him, hand up and obviously guarding two men in camouflage, both on the ground, unconscious.

"What's _this_?" Stephen asked, frowning down at the men.

"Our poachers?" Natasha asked, noticing the bows immediately – and noticing that the ones in the quiver seemed to look a lot like the one Peter had found.

"Yeah."

She looked at Peter.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded. Really, he didn't look scared at all, or upset.

"They passed out," Stark explained, still holding a weapon on them, in case they were playing dead – so to speak. "I'd rather not carry them back to the campsite to wait for the rangers."

"Did you call them already?" Strange asked.

"Right before Peter called you."

"Hold on."

A moment later all of them were at the campsite, next to the fire pit, but Stark still didn't relax. Not yet. Neither did Romanoff.

"Disarm them for me, will you Natasha?"

"Yes."

She picked up the bows, first, handing them to Peter, and then pulled both handguns and then the knives from the men. These she handed to Strange – who immediately sent them to the picnic table.

"How did you find them?" Stephen asked, curiously, as Natasha searched the men quickly, but thoroughly, looking for any hidden weapons. If anyone would find them, it was her, and when she pronounced them safe, Tony finally relaxed his vigil.

"They found _us_." Peter told her. "At the clearing."

Stark nodded, then turned to look at the boy.

"We might be a little late getting back. I'll have Pepper call your aunt to let her know we're keeping you tonight."


	21. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

OOOOOOO

"So they weren't with Fish and Wildlife?" Pepper asked, fascinated.

"Not even _close_ ," Stark replied. "Turns out one is an investment lawyer and the other trades stocks."

"Huh. I imagine they're going to be paying through the nose for this."

Strange nodded.

"Apparently the state of New York does not take kindly to poaching on protected grounds."

"Or anywhere _else_ , for that matter," Natasha added.

They were sitting at a table in the lounge, eating dinner and telling Pepper all about their trip. As much as they could in one sitting, at least. All three of the cameras that had she sent with them were out on the table and she'd been flipping through them one by one almost since they'd returned an hour earlier.

The rangers had been pretty quick to respond to Stark's call, and both of the poachers had been awake by then. They were sitting on the ground in the area between the picnic table and the fire pit when the green truck had pulled up behind Tony's sedan. Stark wasn't in his Ironman suit by then. With one of their handguns only inches from where she sat at the picnic table, the only guard they really _needed_ to have was Natasha. Although that was never tested, since the two men were pretty much dazed from the unexpected turn of events, and with the knowledge that Stark could activate his suit at any minute, they knew they didn't have any place to run even if they'd managed to get to their feet.

There had been a lot of recording of statements, then. All done at the picnic table. This time around, Stark had allowed the rangers to ask Peter questions, but had refused to allow them to get an actual statement – using his status as a minor to keep him out of the entire proceedings, and anything that might follow if it came to trials and court dates. _He_ was more than willing to be a witness, and that would be plenty once all the evidence was sorted out.

They had the arrow that Peter had found still had blood on it, and it could be tested to prove that it was the one that had injured the bear. That would be the physical proof needed to bolster the circumstantial evidence and would definitely be used against the men.

"Sounds like an amazing time."

"You _could_ have come," Stark reminded her.

She rolled her eyes, smiling, and looked at the picture that Strange had taken of the deer by the lake. It was already one of her favorites of the lot.

"This picture is amazing, Stephen," she told him. "I'm going to steal it. You know that, right?"

He smiled.

"As long as you make a print for me, you can do whatever you want to with it. I-"

He was interrupted by a commotion at the lounge entrance and Clint and Steve came in, dressed in casual clothing that told them all they were done with whatever duties they'd been working on when the campers had returned. The two men saw the group and headed their way, grinning.

 _"Peter!"_

Barton and Steve were immediately on the boy, wrapping arms around him and picking him up, cheerfully, hugging him from behind before he could get to his feet, and ignoring the cloak, which had been draped around Peter's shoulders. Peter dropped his fork with a clatter, but was grinning, more than willing to be manhandled by the two.

The cloak grumbled grudging acceptance at being pinned between Peter and them – it could learn, too.

" _Careful_ , gentlemen," Strange cautioned, watching the roughhousing with amusement, but also with that immediate concern that comes naturally to any doctor who is watching someone they sewed back together moving more than they probably should. "Don't ruin my handiwork."

"Did you _really_ get attacked by a bear?" Steve asked, picking up Peter's fork for him and running his fingers through the boy's hair, affectionately.

"And a _skunk_ ," Barton added, pulling back just a bit and making a show of holding his nose.

"Yeah."

"He has the stitches to prove it," Natasha told them.

"Can we see?"

Peter nodded and pulled up the t-shirt he was wearing, held the hem in his teeth to keep it out of the way and then pulled the bandage aside. Both men looked at the four rows of neat stitches with interest.

"That's going to leave an interesting scar," Barton said.

"Not as much as you might think," Strange replied. "I'm better than that, believe me."

"What are you going to tell _May_?" Rogers asked, looking at Tony.

They were all well aware that this was not the kind of thing that they'd really want to share.

"The _truth_ ," Stark said, shrugging. "We can't really hide that many stitches –and she _should_ know. But momma bear is going to be a baby bear to downplay the amount of danger he was really in."

The two men pulled up chairs and joined the group at the table so they could hear the story of the camping trip as well. Including the skunk story, which made both of them grin at Natasha, who rolled her eyes at their amusement. She knew right then that she'd been absolutely correct to insist on not coming back to the compound in the state that she'd been in right after being sprayed.

She was going to have enough trouble living that one down until one of them did something dumb to overshadow the skunking.

They talked well into the evening but finally had to call it a night.

"When are you going home tomorrow?" Barton asked Peter, looking at Tony for the answer.

Stark shrugged; they didn't really have a timeframe, and he was always willing to keep the boy until the last minute.

"I'll probably take him home before dinner. Why?"

"Dropping jumpers in the morning," Steve said, and he _was_ looking at Peter. "Interested?"

The boy nodded.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Which meant a wild ride once they lost the passengers. Something Peter never got enough of. Steve and Clint left, followed by Pepper who had to get some sleep. She took all the cameras with her, though, to make sure none of her pictures would get lost, and said she'd see them all at breakfast.

"I'll walk you to your quarters," Strange said, standing up when the others did and offering his arm to Natasha to support her injured knee, even though her limp wasn't too bad.

The four of them left the lounge together.

"Are you staying here tonight, Stephen?" Stark asked.

"No. I'm going home, and I'm going to take a long hot shower, shave the scruff off my jaw and sleep for a week."

"But we'll see you at _breakfast_ , though, right?" Natasha asked, reaching up and running her fingers along the 5 days' growth of stubble that lined his usually well-trimmed cheeks and jaw.

"Absolutely. As long as none of you are cooking, and I don't have to do the dishes."

"Sounds fair."

The cloak transferred to Strange's collar and with a wink he vanished, leaving the three of them standing by Romanoff's door.

"Thanks for joining us," Tony said to Natasha.

"More fun with a woman there?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"More fun with _you_ there," Peter told her, sincerely.

She hugged him for a long moment and kissed his cheek.

"Next vacation we'll go to a beach somewhere. Someplace with no skunks."

Romanoff told them she'd see them at breakfast – she wanted a long hot shower, too – and went into her quarters, leaving them in the hall, alone.

"We could do _Hawaii_ during Winter break, I suppose," Stark told him, leaning against the wall and watching Peter. "Take May and Pepper, and do the opposite of roughing it. I imagine that would appeal to Stephen, as well."

"It'd be better than _camping_ in the winter."

"True." He smiled, reaching out and pulling Peter into a one-armed hug, holding the boy close for a minute, and feeling that same rush of affection and love that he always did when he was with him. "Thanks for coming."

Peter hugged him back, burying his face against Stark's shirt.

"Thanks for taking me."

"You're welcome." Tony let him go, and couldn't help but ruffle his hair as he did. "Now go take a shower. You still smell like skunk."

OOOOOOOO

 _A/N: the end! I enjoyed writing it, and I really am enjoying my AU with these characters having the relationships that they do. One of the reviews from a guest mentioned the relationship and a question of how it would have made the battle on Titan different and that is an interesting point (that I will not go into to avoid spoiling anything for anyone who hasn't seen it) As a heads up, though, the next story I write (still in my own little AU) is going to be different. I love writing happy and fun, but I'm ready to toss out some angst for a change of pace._

 _Thanks for reading!_


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